Racing the Stars
by Love Alchemist
Summary: Rating just because I want to, so I can do what I feel likeLV AU. Luke is 13, bored, and finds something old of Anakin's in a junkyard. What will it lead to..? Ch.VIII Connections are made, and an affirmation of fact. What happens now?
1. Jewels in the Sand

Disclaimer: Don't own Star Wars and related, never will, just messing around with it and will put it back as it were before I got my little hands on it.

Right. This is my first Star Wars fanfic (but not first fanfic overall), so I'm a little nervous about it. If it sucks, don't come screaming about it, but do tell it... just nicely, okay?   
There are too few fics with Luke Vader in a father/son-type of relationship. So I'm doing my own. Don't kill me. You know the drill really, AU. Flaming AU with Luke finding something of Anakin's... Vader will appear later.

* * *

Tatooine's twin suns rose majestically over the burnt golden horizon of the desert planet, quickly banishing the night-chilled shadows and leaving the surface a burning anvil once more. Of course, the planet's moisture farmers had already been up for a while since no hour when one could be working could be allowed to go to waste. 

One of the inhabitants on such a farm was still sleeping however, but not for long.

"Luke? Get up! You have chores to be done!" Owen Lars demanded from behind the closed door, rapping on it sharply. He'd let the boy sleep to sunup as usual (Beru had convinced him of it when Luke first started to help with the farm and the rule was still active), but Luke wasn't a little kid anymore, and should start with the rest of them.

Of course, he hadn't made Luke wake up any earlier than usual.

Yet.

"Luke!" Sharp bark and finally there was some sound of movement from within, and a voice muttering something that could have been taken for affirmation. Knowing the boy wouldn't fall back asleep again, since if he did, there'd be hell to pay, Owen stalked away into the kitchen. Beru stood as usual by the cooking unit, hiding the smile that had lurked on her lips when Owen came in. He may have some trouble with letting the boy be himself, idealistic dreaming and all, but he was hardly as demanding as he made himself out to be.

"You'll get him on his chores and see to it that they're done before he runs away to do god knows what?" Owen asked his wife as he walked past, kissing her on the cheek.

"As always." She confirmed with a nod and patient smile. "Now go." Shooing her husband out of the kitchen, she prepared to be hit by the daily storm that whirled in here each morning. Luke may be short, but he easily made up for it with his bright personality and a presence like a sun going supernova.

* * *

The third member of the Lars' homestead groaned and dragged the blanket up over his head as his Uncle's voice cut through his happy haze of almost-awareness. But as always, it quickly became too hot due to the suns shining down outside. Throwing the blanket to the foot of the bed, Luke muttered a barely audible something (that he knew would be taken for an acknowledgment to get up) and rolled slowly out of bed as his Uncle's footsteps receded. 

Another boring day in a boring year on this boring planet. Glancing out of the window, just to confirm the suns _had_ risen and he still wasn't expected to work on a normal farmer's schedule (he dreaded the day when he would hear his Uncle's voice calling him and he'd find it was still pre-dawn), the 13 year old boy struggled into the slightly too-large clothes, dragged a hand through silkily soft, sun-bleached blond hair to substitute for a combing and bounced out of his room. Even if it would be the same routine as every day, he couldn't help but feel vaguely excited and expectant, as always. What he waited for, he wasn't really sure.

"'Morning, Aunt Beru!" Luke chirped and sat down by the table, scarfing down whatever was put in front of him eagerly. The older woman smiled down at "nephew" feeling rather relieved that he'd entered the stage of his youth where he'd eat as often as he could, and as much as he could of what was put in front of him. He was a little on the short side, and while it was terribly cute, Beru didn't think Luke would appreciate being _cute_ much longer.

A short flash of a slender, dark-haired woman entered her mind's eye and she vaguely wondered if Luke would maybe get his mother's height... shaking her head and refocusing her attention on Luke, Beru nodded to the question she'd half-heard.

It was an old one.

"Yes Luke, you _can_ go to Anchorhead. But only when your chores are done, you know that."

She had, as usual, ignored the slipped-in "ormaybeMosEisely?". He knew he couldn't go there, and she wasn't about to fall for the talking-so-fast-you-can-hardly-understand-what-is-being-said. She'd learnt how to decipher Luke-babbling a long time ago, since he only did it when trying to ask for something he knew he wouldn't get.

"Awww, but Aunt Beruuu..." Luke whined as he hopped of the bench and put his dishes with the others. Beru just ignored the "earnestly" shining blue eyes with their pleading expression.

"Now scoot. The faster you get them done, the faster you can go over to Anchorhead."

Ruffling the blond head she turned back to her own work, keeping half an ear to the receding thunder of Luke's footsteps. It was a wonder such a small boy could produce so much sound.

* * *

Growling at the vaporator, Luke scowled and poked around. There was something wrong with this one, but he couldn't figure out _what_ exactly. It was just beyond his fingertips, he was _sure_ of it. But he couldn't find it and it was just so frustrating! He _knew_ he could find it, it was just... taking a deep breath and letting it go in a puff of frustration, Luke shook his head. 

This was the last of his chores, and _kreth_ if he was going to stay here any longer than necessary. He wanted into Anchorhead. Biggs had told him someone new had moved in, an alien even. Why anyone would ever want to move to this sun-burned dust ball of a planet he couldn't understand, but it wasn't his business.

What _was_ his business on the other hand, was that the newcomer had taken over the responsibility of the junkyard and the much needed duty (in the authority's eyes anyway) of seeing to it so that their scrap metal and other broken machinery and whatnot were moved over to Mos Eisely when needed. Before it had been more of a "whenever it becomes too much" kind of deal, which had suited Luke perfectly.

The problem was, Luke used to go there to get bits and pieces to fiddle with, and if the newcomer wouldn't let him do that anymore, it'd be harder and he'd possibly have to sneak in. And while sneaking was fun... it came with the possibility of being found out, thrown out and his Aunt and Uncle being told he had been bad again. So, he needed to get into Anchorhead and talk with the supposed alien (Biggs could just be jerking his chain, most of the aliens were in Mos Eisely, anybody knew _that_) and hope he was reasonable.

Now, back to this bantha poodoo of a vaporator. What would his father have done?

Closing his eyes and resting on the heels of his feet, Luke frowned. Navigator on a freighter? As if! His dead father had been a pilot of some sort, of that Luke was certain. Racing among the diamond-sparkle of stars and the endless void of space, just as he wanted to do. Just as Luke was _going_ to do, however much Uncle Owen wanted to keep him here as a farmer.

Easily dropping into the daydream, Luke imagined sitting in a cockpit, his father beside him. The deep, gentle voice picking out and explaining various controls and how they worked. But for some reason the stars out side started to shift and swirl, like they supposedly did in hyperspace, before remolding into the blinding white-gold, and red-shaded desert of Tatooine, suns beating down on them from above. His father was still explaining for him, but these controls were different, and the seat he was in was open to the hot air and sunlight.

"Remember Luke, to keep the engines stable. That's what's important." The voice rumbled through him pleasantly and Luke looked up at his father through the goggles he wore but had to frown. The goggles must be impeding his sight, because he couldn't see any definite features, only dark blond, slightly wavy hair and blue eyes like his own.

"And Luke, always listen to your instincts. Your gut feeling will always be right so follow it, understand?" The voice dropped away suddenly, fading away into the sunlight and sand and hot-hot air and then he was definitely back by the vaporator, still crouching in the sand.

Blinking to clear his eyes, Luke frowned. That had been a little different. Usually his daydreams didn't shift as this one had done. Shaking his head, Luke peered at the broken machinery thoughtfully. Hesitantly at first, then with mounting confidence, his fingers flew over the controls and inside the innards of the vaporator, and not even 10 minutes later, he could slam the little maintenance hatch closed as the vaporator started to function as it should again.

He hadn't even had to pick it apart! Grinning brightly, Luke wondered why he'd been so hesitant to follow that feeling that never went wrong, but a flash of Uncle Owen scowling ferociously easily gave him the hint. But Uncle Owen wasn't here right now, so he wouldn't know that Luke had followed that feeling that told him where to find lost tools or things, or if there was a sandstorm coming.

That last one he'd always found to be a very good thing to know, and while Aunt Beru always thanked him but told him to keep it quiet, Uncle Owen on the other hand got all red in the face and angry. Sighing at the thought of his grumpy and unreasonable Uncle, Luke shook his head and got to his feet. At least now he could get into Anchorhead without his Uncle whining either about broken vaporators or his chores not being done.

* * *

Anchorhead looked as it always had done, the few off-white dirty buildings collecting sand at the edges, the road mostly deserted and everything looking tired, bland and bleached so much by the suns there was no color or even life left in anything. At least the homestead looked more alive and welcoming than this place did. 

Sneaking up to the house whose front worked as an entrance to the scrap yard, Luke looked around the room from the doorway.

No one around.

Hoping, even if it would just delay thing, that maybe the alien wasn't around and he could talk with him some other day, Luke slowly started to inch inside, heading for the courtyard in the back where all the junk was.

"Hey! You there!" The voice rather scratchy, and Luke froze immediately, whirling around nervously.

"I'm not a thief, I promise!" He blurted out, staring up at the green-skinned individual who had stopped him. So it _was_ an alien. A Rodian... if he remembered his lessons correctly.

"No? What are you doing in here _sneaking_ then?" The alien sat down on a chair in the corner he'd no doubt been sitting in. _/Lurking is more like it./_ Luke thought with a mental scowl, not happy at not having noticed the man.

"I was... I was just... I come here often to get stuff to tinker with, and I thought maybe you wouldn't let me do that anymore and so I thought I'd sneak in!" It came out in a rush, not as mangled and mashed together as his "babble", but almost. The Rodian did some facial expression, Luke thought it was equivalent with a raised eyebrow but couldn't be sure.

But what he was sure about was the feeling of amusement emanating from the creature. Luke frowned, barely kept himself from pouting and crossed his arms defiantly over his chest. Damn adults always making fun of him just because he was younger... A soft snort erupted from the Rodian and Luke frowned even more fiercely, particularly as he could decipher it as a laugh.

"Right kid. I won't tell you not to come here. As long as you don't make a fuss of it, okay?" the Rodian snorted again and Luke nodded cautiously.

"Okay. Thanks!" Deciding to take it for what it was, the blond boy smiled brightly and waved in thanks as he jogged out of the room and out on the courtyard.

Smiling contentedly, Luke took a deep breath, inhaling the odors of old oil, metal and rust. It was maybe not a _nice_ smell, but that wasn't what was important. For him, it had another, maybe more deeper meaning.

Creativity.

Things in here may be broken, but he could almost always put something back together and make it work again. And if he couldn't get a particular object to work, the parts could always be used for something else and make other things working instead.

There wasn't anything really new, but that didn't bother Luke. He could go look for something that he'd seen earlier and... Thoughts trailing off, Luke stared at the machine cramped in between the courtyard wall and other junk. He couldn't tell what it was, only that it was definitely some sort of racing machine.

It was a faded orange, but in several places the paint had been scratched and torn away, revealing a matted silver-blue theme beneath. Two long cables connected the small, cockpit-like seat to two cylindrical engines, but neither they nor the cockpit was in any good repair. Indeed, it rather looked like it'd been beaten on with a blunt object. That it was all still hanging together was something of a miracle.

"It's called a podracer. The sport was outlawed several years ago." The Rodian had silently come up behind Luke, but the boy had felt him sneak up and wasn't surprised.

Slowly, slowly Luke walked up to the run-down 'racer, feeling almost drawn to it. It was a beautiful machine still, and the second he touched the sun-warmed metal of the cockpit, he knew he could fix it. He _had_ to race it! Whirling around, Luke peered up at the Rodian pleadingly.

"Let me have it! Please! It... I..." He couldn't explain it, and he had never really been good with words. Heart beating harder than it had ever done in his short life (and yet the seconds now seemed longer than all the hours, months and years taken together), he stared up at the green-skinned alien, begging as best as he could with his eyes, knowing he'd probably be refused just _because_...

"Alright."

Luke's soaring happiness was quickly shot down however, falling so hard and so fast, he thought he could feel the non-existent vertigo, when the Rodian continued.

"But, _only_ if you can fix it up... _and_ race me in Beggar's Canyon."

Luke scowled and crossed his arms, holding back the childish urge to stomp his foot. There was something hidden here, something he didn't know, that the Rodian was keeping quiet about. Narrowing his blue eyes, Luke did his best to sneer. Bantha poodoo of a greedy and selfish... trailing off since he couldn't come up with any good names, Luke nodded.

"Sure. If those are the conditions for me to get it, I'll do it." His Uncle was going to _kill_ him, and Aunt Beru would look at him all sad like. He didn't want her to look like that.

So, therefore, he would see to it that they wouldn't find out.

* * *

Kyan. Please ignore that the history of where Anakin's podracer disappears to after it has done it's duty isn't the same. I want it here, so... just imagine whatever you will for it to still be on/having come back to Tatooine, kay? But Sebulba did buy, it... for some reason. It's AU. That's my excuse. Hope you enjoyed! 


	2. Secrets of the Past

Disclaimer: Like before, don't own Star Wars, only horsing around with this idea.

_/Blah.../_ thoughts

Second chappie out, and I wouldn't expect quite this rate of being put up here for all the chapters. I'm normally not this quick. Right now the ideas are flowing, that's all. In this Luke repairs the podracer, gets some information, and finds out a "secret".

And, just ignore the period after the question mark in the last sentence, which happens to be a thought. For FFnet to allow me to have even just that question mark there, I had to have that freaking dot!

* * *

Luke looked nervously over his shoulders towards the homestead in case Aunt Beru or Uncle Owen would come out and overhear him. Satisfied for the moment that they wouldn't come charging out, Luke kneeled by the little grave marker, the next to last in the line of four. 

"Grandmother..." He could feel excitement bubble up just at the thought of the podracer hidden away in the garage of the Rodian's house. "I found a podracer! Dunno if you know what it is, but it's kind of like a speeder... but with external engines that are connected to the cockpit by cables. But it isn't mine though..." Luke grimaced here, crossing his ankles in front of him and leaning his elbows on his knees.

"Some Rodian that moved here owns it. But he promised me I'll get it if I repair it..." Here he lowered his voice in fear for his Aunt or Uncle overhearing this _most_ important piece of information. "... and if I race him in Beggar's Canyon and win. There's something he isn't telling me though. I don't know what it is, but I need to know. I'm rather sure it's important. What do you think it could be?" It was easy, talking like this. Maybe his Grandmother couldn't answer, but at least he didn't feel any pressure from her, demanding he'd be something he couldn't.

"Luke? I'm shutting the power down now!" Uncle Owen shouted from the lowered courtyard, and the boy turned his head to answer.

"Okay! I'll be there soon!" Uncle Owen didn't like it, but since he'd been doing this at least once a week since they told him that his Grandmother was buried here, and Aunt Beru had convinced Uncle Owen to let him spend these sunset-moments here if he wished (even if she looked sad when he walked out and up to the graves). Uncle Owen thought it was stupid, but he'd never said it right to his face.

But he'd heard his Uncle mutter to Aunt Beru once, when they didn't know he was there, that he thought Luke was stupid to want to talk to a dead woman, however wonderful she had been. _'He didn't even know her!'_ Luke remembered him exclaim. Aunt Beru had looked towards the door, but hadn't seen him, and shushed Uncle Owen. _'It's his family. She shares his name. Don't be so harsh on him, Owen.'_ She had said in that soft, gentle voice of hers and Uncle had muttered but hadn't said anything else.

Sighing, Luke put his legs up against his chest and hugged his arms around them as he rested his chin on his knees.

"I dunno, Grandmother... I know that was a stupid thing to do. Agree to race an alien in something I don't even know how it works. But he did say he'd teach me, if only because it wouldn't be any interesting if I crashed at the first turn I tried to do. No sport in it, he said. But I'm not gonna back down! I want that 'racer! It _feels_ as if I should have it. You probably think I'm nuts now. Well, good night Grandmother. Sleep tight." Luke said cheerfully and got up, dusting his legs and butt off before Aunt Beru could come out and tell him it was time to go inside and go to bed.

Had Shmi Lars-Skywalker been able to, she would most certainly have reassured her grandson that she didn't think he was weird or nuts. He was a wonderful boy, a gift of life. But she would also most probably have been turning in her grave out of worry, had it been possible, as the lure of dangerous sports had apparently snared not only her son, but her grandson too.

An irony perhaps, that the same podracer that Anakin Skywalker had once built and raced now would be repaired and raced by his son.

* * *

"What was podracing?" The innocent question asked by a sweet voice and sparkling blue eyes were met with adamant swearing from Owen Lars and a sharp reprimand for the man to shut up and not use such language in front of their nephew, by the boy's aunt. 

"Why do you want to know, dear?" Aunt Beru asked with a smile, but nervousness peeked from behind her eyes that were shrouded with gentle curiosity. Owen was much more blatant with his misgivings, and stared with narrow eyes suspiciously at Luke. The boy just shrugged and took another bite from the food on his plate.

"I was just curious. Heard it being mentioned in passing somewhere... can't remember where now, though." Luke said, artfully knitting his brows together as if in deep thought. "So, what was it?" He prodded again, not about to give up.

Aunt Beru and Uncle Owen shared a look, and then his Uncle turned to him and grunted. Luke waited patiently, or as patiently as he could, while inside he was twitching with excitement. He had to force himself to sit still.

"Well, Luke, it was a high-speed sport, only maniacs and idiots competed if you ask me," Uncle Owen muttered with a shake of his head before continuing, "only aliens competed in it, with a small cockpit-like coach attached to large engines by cables. Very dangerous, people often died or were severely hurt." Uncle Owen paused, his face looking as if he'd bitten in something rotten or sour, showing exactly what he thought about such an 'idiot sport'.

"It's outlawed now, has been since before you were born. But there was a track for it in Mos Espa." Uncle Owen admitted reluctantly and Luke had to keep from whooping in triumph and curious excitement. He couldn't appear more than just slightly interested.

As it was, he couldn't keep the sparkle that unknowingly to him entered his eyes. But that didn't really matter, as he would have been excited about hearing about this kind of sport even if he hadn't had an ulterior motive for it. Then his brain latched onto a particular piece of Uncle Owen's explanation, and Luke frowned.

"Why was it only aliens that raced, Uncle Owen? Weren't humans allowed?"

Uncle Owen shook his head, looking pleased that Luke had asked this. _/Probably want to scare me from it, even if it is outlawed and there are no... legal... races anymore./_ Storing away that revelation to look at and ponder it later, Luke turned his attention to his Uncle once more.

"No, that wasn't it, Luke. You see, the speeds that the podracers could and would maintain, were so extreme you needed superior reflexes among other things, that humans simply couldn't keep up. Humans didn't race, not because they weren't allowed, but because we don't have the kind of faculties needed to react with the kind of quickness that'd allow us to survive a race of podracing." Uncle Owen nodded at that, deeming the topic closed, and went back to his dinner.

* * *

Luke felt faint. There was a silent ringing in his ears and other sounds seemed distant. He'd gone directly to his room after dinner, claming to be tired. But he really just needed to collect his thoughts. 

What had he just agreed to?

With a groan, Luke collapsed onto his bed and rolled over on his stomach, burying his face in the pillow.

He was an idiot.

No wonder the conditions had been what they were for him to keep the 'racer. Because there was simply no way of him winning... wait. Why should be believe that? Just because no human had ever participated in a podrace... and why did that somehow ring false? Anyway, did that mean that _he_ couldn't not only survive, but also _win_?

His thoughts drifted back to the 'racer shimmering in the sunlight from the twin suns, and Luke's resolve hardened. He would repair it, race the Rodian and _win_. There was no other option! He knew he could do it! He just had, as his father had told him in his daydream, to trust his instincts.

His mechanics skills would be good enough to not only patch the 'racer up, but to make it as good as new again, and his flying skills would be good enough to take him through a race with the Rodian _and_ win. Now that he'd decided that, Luke picked up the little tidbit he'd realized during Uncle Owen's explanation. _/There's no real reason for the Rodian to give me the conditions of repairing it and win in a race against him, if podracing is outlawed since he would have no use for it then.../_

"But... if there are still _illegal_ races being arranged, then an extra 'racer that could possibly be better than his regular one, would be a real asset. Or, even if he isn't planning to _use it_, I'm sure it would rake in quite a lot from those prepared to pay for it..." Luke whispered to himself as his thoughts rearranged themselves and he figured it all out.

"I wonder... is there anything special with _that_ podracer? Otherwise there wouldn't really be any reason to keep it after it has fallen in such disrepair..." What was the mystery? He was sure the Rodian wouldn't tell him, because otherwise Luke may be even more interested in keeping it.

Of course, the Rodian didn't think he was going to _win_ so maybe it wouldn't matter for him? It was a possibility... And that one single possibility tickled at Luke's insides, since he had a feeling that there really was something special about just _this_ one podracer. But why?

* * *

With a frustrated growl, Luke threw the hydrospanner away, the tool bouncing on the ground and against the torso of a droid (with nothing else attached). 

"Can't do it, boy?" The Rodian had come out from his shadowed perch on the chair in the same corner he'd been sitting in the first time Luke tried to sneak in after the Rodian had taken over the junkyard. The scratch-hiss of his voice was taunting, and grated on Luke's nerves, but he just scowled.

"No, I can do it. But there's something _missing_." He said frustrated, hand gesturing wildly to take in the whole podracer. It had been cleaned of its orange coat of paint, and now the original, tarnished blue and silver theme was glowing dully in the sunlight. It needed a new coat of paint, but that would come last. But Luke was going to keep the colors. He liked them. Maybe just change the style a little? The Rodian snorted and walked up to the engines, kicking the outmost one lightly.

"Of course there's something _missing_, boy. The energy binder for one thing. It's supposed to keep the engines connected to each other." At least the Rodian wasn't taunting him now, just being strictly factual.

"Thanks for telling me." Luke muttered and brushed sweat-saturated hair out of his eyes thoughtfully. He knew better than to ask for an energy binder. If he couldn't make one himself or find it, he had to make do without, because the Rodian wouldn't give him anything.

And if he had to make do without a thing? 'Too bad, boy, you lose. I'm keeping the podracer. Just go home to mommy.' That would most probably be the answer and he wasn't going to accept that. Luke frowned and scowled determinedly. But hadn't he seen..?

Getting up and starting to look through the junkyard, Luke thought back on the past three weeks. He hadn't been able to get away as often, or early from the homestead as he'd like, but he had to do and finish his chores if he didn't want Uncle Owen breathing down his neck. At least he had an excuse for going into Anchorhead so often; the cover story was that the Rodian had given him a job. He even got money for it. But really, that was only fair, he thought. He wasn't getting any help at all, except theoretical with repairing the racer so some money was welcome.

But at least he knew the podracer intimately now, how it worked, what made it, or rather, would make it, tick and so on. He was learning it as he repaired it, and as far as he could understand it, and feel it too for that matter, the green-skinned alien hadn't lied to him yet.

Of course, theoretical knowledge was nothing. His first taste of podracing would not be a training race or run, but a real race against the Rodian which would decide if he'd get to keep the podracer or not. So he'd be at a severe disadvantage against the Rodian, who, Luke was now sure, was one of those illegal, and thus professional, podracers.

Oh, joy.

Searching in the junkyard for bits and pieces to use had taken the most of the time of these past three weeks, but Luke knew he was coming to the end. The 'racer was coming along nicely, but the only way of knowing if it would work and not blow up around him would be when they were going to race.

Lifting several pieces from a dismantled vaporator that had been too damaged to use somewhere else and had thus ended up here, Luke crowed triumphantly when he found what he was looking for.

An energy binder.

Of course, it wasn't whole, and he'd have to repair it, and how it had ended up here he couldn't even begin to figure out. But the important thing was, it was here, and he could repair it and use it in the 'racer.

"Say, can I ask you something, if it's not too much trouble?" Luke asked where he sat cross-legged beside the podracer, repairing the energy binder. The Rodian, standing in the doorway to the room where he normally sat hidden away, shrugged. Taking that as encouragement, or at least permission to ask, Luke ploughed on.

"Who has this 'racer belonged to? And why have you carted it around when it was almost a scrap heap?" He hadn't had any chance to ask this in all three weeks, no opportunity had appeared, so now he just took the chance and asked. The Rodian was quiet for a while, staring up at the intensely blue sky above them.

He looked down after several minutes, looking as if he was going to answer but suddenly stopped, the opaque black eyes staring at Luke as if seeing him for the first time in these past three weeks.

"What's your name, boy?" There was something suspicious in the alien's voice, and Luke almost asked 'what does it matter?' but kept it inside. There must be a reason for the Rodian to ask. Especially since he hadn't cared enough to ask earlier...

"Luke... Lars. Why?" He paused just momentarily before giving his Aunt and Uncle's last name instead of his own. Why, he wasn't really sure, but there had been his gut feeling again, telling him in no uncertain terms that if he wanted to know the secrets of this podracer, he'd better not tell the Rodian his real name.

"Nothing. Just a thought... Anyway, I'll tell you before the race, okay, boy?" The Rodian didn't wait for an answer, just turned around and walked into the room again. Staring after the alien, Luke frowned and muttered, very quietly, a few choice words in Huttese after the man. He wasn't supposed to know those words.

* * *

Turning around for what seemed like the umpteenth time that night, Luke shifted under his blanket, still not being able to sleep. He knew he _needed_ to sleep, but it was simply not coming to him. 

He was nervous. And anxious, and... well. He was a lot of things that could be used as synonyms with "nervous". But he thought he had all the right to be.

Tomorrow, or rather today since it was after midnight now, he'd race the Rodian. In Beggar's Canyon. With a groan, Luke thumped the pillow beneath him several times with his head.

He was _such_ an idiot.

Did that mean he was going to do the sensible thing and back out, leaving the Rodian with a fully (as far as he knew) functional podracer, and not even get to know what was the deal with it? No. Absolutely not! The Rodian may own it, but the moment he'd laid his awestruck eyes on it, it had been his, and he couldn't allow the Rodian to prance away with _his_ podracer!

Snapping open his eyes which he'd closed earlier, Luke stared horrified at the ceiling. What if the Rodian sneaked off tonight or later this morning, when Luke was doing his chores, _with_ the podracer? Shaking his head, Luke forcibly relaxed himself. He had to trust the Rodian to keep to the deal.

He'd said he'd move Luke's 'racer to where they would start, and they'd go there when Luke came in this afternoon. Thing was, Luke Skywalker wasn't stupid. Impulsive and reckless maybe, prone to sometimes (temporarily) miss what was in front of his eyes, yes. But stupid? No.

_Why_ had the Rodian agreed?

Or rather, why set the conditions to being a race? There was a, Luke had to admit, possibility that he'd crash, and then the 'racer would be back where it started, as junk. Why risk that, when Luke now actually had gotten it to work? It seemed stupid.

"There _must_ be something else here..." Luke muttered to himself into the velvet darkness of his room and the Tatooinian night. Blue eyes slipped closed though, and soon his body relaxed into sleep, and his breathing evened out. He may have a lot of energy, but it wasn't endless whatever Uncle Owen liked to say, and anxiousness takes a lot out of you.

* * *

The suns stood slightly past zenith when Luke finally was finished with his chores. He had worked like someone possessed to get them all done as quickly as possible, and it had paid off. Aunt Beru had looked at him with a fond, if vaguely worried expression when he hugged her to leave for Anchorhead. 

She had picked up on his excitement and knew something was up, especially from his spirited work. But she didn't have any reason to make him stay at home, and so could only return the hug, smile goodbye, and wait for the disaster that surely was lurking beyond the bend to strike.

Luke's former nervousness seemed to have fled with the dawn of the twin suns, and now there was only a bursting excitement everywhere, making him impatient with want to get his chores done and over with so he could race.

Bounding down the street, Luke screeched to a stop in front of the junkyard, and walked around the house, shivering as he was drenched in the shadows between the houses. They weren't cold, but definitely cool, and his excitement made the difference between the burning sunlight and the lurking darkness that much more clear. If the Rodian wasn't here...

Luke needn't have worried. Rounding the last bit of the wall belonging to the courtyard where the junk was kept, he immediately spotted the Rodian leaning lazily against the side of a speeder, it's engines humming readily.

"Good, boy. Let us be off then. I was almost worried you had backed out of our deal." The Rodian did his version of a smile, rather slimily too, in Luke's opinion, and the boy shrugged as he jumped into the seat beside the alien, and settled down. _/You'd like that, wouldn't you? Forget it./ _He wasn't going to say it of course, but no one could stop him from thinking it. Luke couldn't help but feeling irritated at the Rodian's insistence at calling him 'boy' all the time, he did have a name!

As soon as he was sitting down securely, the Rodian pushed the speeder into gear, leaving a cloud of dust behind them as they blasted off towards the Canyon.

* * *

Luke was once again struck by his utter stupidity, and unwillingness to back down as they neared their destination, the brown cliffs and red-shaded stone providing a slight difference in view. The Canyon's opening loomed ever closer, sharp shadows making the crack look ominous and rather forbidding. 

Luke shook his head, really! He needed to get over himself! It was just a formation of cliffs, not housing the greatest evil in the known universe (wonder what that was anyway? The Emperor, or something else?).

They came to a stop rather suddenly near the base of Beggar's Canyon; the two podracers they'd each use were pushed up against the cliff wall, hidden by some camo-net. It took some work getting them out into the open and along the invisible "starting" line, but finally they were both in place and ready.

Luke took a deep breath and grinned, feeling everything boil down to this point of the universe. There was only this 'racer, gleaming brilliantly with a new coat of blue and silver paint in the harsh sunlight, him, and the Canyon rising sharply above them.

"Hey."

Turning around automatically, Luke fumbled with the goggles the Rodian had thrown his way. Blinking dazedly, Luke looked at the goggles, and then looked up, nodding in thanks.

Securing the protective headgear over his eyes, Luke studied the Rodian's podracer. The cockpit was almost laughably small against the extremely large, circular engines, everything painted in a bright red-blue theme. Of course, his own didn't look like much compared to the Rodian's so he should just be quiet.

Hopping into the cockpit and strapping in, Luke ran his hands almost reverently over the controls, quickly reaffirming to himself their various functions and that everything was working as it should. He had to admit to going over the 'racer after getting it out onto the starting point, he didn't trust the Rodian. The alien hadn't said anything though, so Luke assumed he hadn't been insulted.

He was sure man would have done the same thing himself, had he been in Luke's shoes. Thinking back on these past three weeks and some, Luke smiled. All the work had definitely been worth this, if just to sit here. Then he remembered _that_ conversation, if it could be called as such...

"Hey, mister!" He turned to the Rodian who looked up from his own check of the systems on his podracer. "You said you'd tell me who'd owned m... this 'racer and what the deal with it is!"

The Rodian paused, one hand hovering over the control board. Luke was sure he was scowling.

"Yes, I did. Very well. It belonged to Sebulba the Dug, a great podracer in his time."

Luke was disappointed. That was _it_? It couldn't be! But before he could open his mouth and complain, the Rodian crossed his arms and leaned back into the seat.

"Before that, it belonged to a Toydarian who lived in Mos Espa. He had a slave to race it for him. The slave supposedly built this podracer himself and flew it in the Boonta Eve Classic some thirty years ago, give or take. What is so special about it, arguably, is that the slave was a human. The _only_ human to ever fly in a podrace and win. He supposedly disappeared right after winning the race though. He was never heard of again in podracing circles anyway. His name was Anakin Skywalker." Abruptly, the Rodian turned back to his control-check, leaving Luke to stare at him, mouth falling open, blue eyes wide.

_/A... Anakin Skywalker?./_


	3. Reaching Beyond

Disclaimer: Still don't own anything except this idea which I'm playing around with.

Third chappie, hope you'll like it!

* * *

Space was cold. While he couldn't feel much of it due to the clothes he wore, and not having much of a body left to indeed _feel_ the cold with, this was a piece of knowledge that had burned itself into his brain with cold star-fire, forever sticking with the Tatooine-bred boy. 

He was used to it though. And besides, it was part of it. The austere beauty of space with the stars dotting the void surrounding the lone Star Destroyer was all part of why he loved space. It gave him the freedom of flying, the only freedom he had kept through the years, and it was the complete opposite of the baking heat of the twin suns that Tatooine circled.

Tatooine.

The cursed planet he couldn't seem to escape even when he swore he would never return again.

"Lord Vader? We're nearing our destination. We'll drop out of hyperspace within the hour." Nodding to the Captain, but not turning around, Darth Vader continued to stare out the large view port currently displaying the star-streaked hyperspace. Captain Millet lingered for a moment before walking away, doing his best to appear as if he wasn't fleeing from the oppressive presence of the dark lord.

* * *

Anakin Skywalker. 

The name buzzed around in Luke's brain like a drunken fly, bouncing against his cranium, up, down, sideways, back, until Luke was cross-eyed with following the thought. His father had been a slave? And been the only human to ever fly a podrace, and _win_ too?

But what had happened after he had won that race? Where had he gone? Used the money to free himself and gone on to be a navigator on a freighter as Uncle Owen had told him? But that just didn't add up. The money would have belonged to the Toydarian who owned him. So what then..?

"Hey, boy! You just gonna to sit there frying or are we gonna do this? I can pack up and go back you know. Ain't me wanting a podracer." The Rodian's voice broke through Luke's amazed and dumbfounded mind. He wanted to tell the alien off, it isn't every day you get some information about your dead father, but he had to bite his tongue, nod, and stay quiet.

Here was the reason his gut feeling had told him to use the Lars name instead. Had he told him it was 'Luke Skywalker', the Rodian would no doubt have refused to tell him anything and possibly even backed out of their deal and thrown him out on his ear. Of course, Luke didn't _know_ that, but he was rather sure of it.

Tightening the straps keeping him in the seat of the 'racer for one last time Luke nodded and the Rodian threw the small smoke-charge on the ground between their podracers. It would only produce a small puff of smoke when it went off, but would effectively send them on their way as their starting signal. Luke fingered the control-handles nervously. This was it. The seconds ticked by torturously, and Luke wondered if 15 seconds really was that long, it _couldn't_ be...

He'd been so concentrated on the smoke-charge so that when it went off he wasn't even aware of engaging the podracer's engines. He was suddenly just slammed back into the seat, almost loosing his light grip on the control-handles in the process. Reflexively grabbing the handles harder, Luke concentrated on the machine under and around him, the speed and the wind whipping his hair back.

_It was..._

The podracers had started quite a ways from the Canyon's opening, just to give Luke a fair chance at getting used to the 'racer. The Rodian was certainly not lacking in confidence. Which wasn't strange, since only one other human had ever competed in podraces and he'd soon left the scene for reasons unknown. It wasn't as if Luke portrayed any sort of _threat_ now was it?

_... perfectly..._

Luke let out a whoop of delight as they entered the Canyon, shadows drenching him and the Rodian, the suns not reaching down here.

_... exhilarating!_

There had been a few close calls during the first twisting turns of the race, but Luke proved to be a quick learner when it came to hands-on learning. He had all the relevant theoretical knowledge, and the crash-course in the beginning of the Canyon had cemented it into real potential skill.

Which was lucky, since otherwise the race would have been over _real_ quick. This was easy, direct, no time for hesitation or thoughts. He had fumbled with the instincts telling him _when_, _how_, and _now!_ at first, which accounted for nearly slamming into the cliff wall instead of turning at a bend, one of the engines getting clipped instead, but remaining unharmed. After that he learnt not to ask stupid questions but just follow the small tugs if he wanted to not only win but also _stay alive_.

A rock jutting out of the canyon floor had him jerking to the side to avoid greeting it headfirst. He had wanted to go above it, but the Rodian had cut him off, so he had to settle for the next best thing. The reason for the Rodian taking the "upper" path was suddenly clear when the corridor they were in became drastically smaller on the bottom, but staying the same size higher up.

Luke gritted his teeth, slammed the brake for a second to drop behind the Rodian and his podracer and then pushed the accelerator again, angling for staying behind the Rodian until... such... that he could go beneath and in front of him! without having to worry about the corridor-space lessening on him. Maneuvering the next zigzag turn easily, Luke grinned. He was definitely getting the hang of this; the machine was now not separate from him, but a _part_ of him, humming all around him.

The engines' roar filled the relatively small space as the podracer easily answered his slightest touch. This was not what he had expected. In fact, this was so beyond what he had expected that he could do nothing but be filled by the speed, wind, and shadow/light flickering over them as he and his opponent hurtled down through Beggar's Canyon's alternately wide and slim corridors and maneuvered its twists and turns.

The pathway was now wide enough for both podracers to be flying side by side, the cliff walls rising around them in brown-red shades that were smeared into one continuous streak of color due to the extreme speeds they were going at. It was almost as if the Canyon itself was luring you into a false sense of security, since you could be tempted to just blast down the corridor at highest speed (which, incidentally, was what they were doing), and then be taken completely by surprise by the Stone Needle that rose up from the cliffs further down.

It wasn't very hard to avoid it, if you knew it was coming, but if you didn't... Luke knew it was coming up, but didn't slow down.

He could avoid it.

Uncle Owen had shown it to him once, pointing out the rather intimidating and impressive stone formation to an awed, eight-year-old Luke. When he saw it back then, he had decided he would thread it one day. And while he was sure he _could_ do it now, there was no sense in taking (more) stupid risks.

Particularly since he hadn't flown a podracer before now and while things were going well, he shouldn't press his luck. Unfortunately, he wouldn't get the chance to avoid it. They rounded the last turn and the Needle came into view and suddenly the Rodian was right up beside him, too close in fact, they were going to collide!

But they didn't, their 'racers just bumped into each other and Luke was being pushed to the right...

What?

He didn't have time to understand what had happened before his situation registered. Eyes widening behind the goggles, his heart suddenly up in his mouth and three sizes too big, Luke watched the Needle come up in his vision faster than he'd ever have thought possible, no chance to avoid it, he was going to crash, he wasn't going to make it, he was...

_FATHER!_

The cry was instinctual and barely registered in Luke's panicked mind.

* * *

In one place not so far away, an older man was ripped from his meditation as Luke's Force presence flared more brightly for a second than it had ever done before, the distress of that presence calling out loudly. 

"Luke!" Ben cried reflexively, looking around wildly before reminding himself that he was alone in his hut. Taking a deep breath Ben reached out, searching for the familiar brightness of Luke's presence.

Finding it easily, he was relieved to find that Luke was not in danger anymore. No more than usual at any rate. But he could not shake the oppressive feeling of something deeper. Something had changed, for better or worse, and Luke was in the middle of it.

Luke... and his... banishing that thought, Ben Kenobi, formerly known as Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Knight and General of the Clone Wars, sat down in his chair again. He'd check on Luke later today, just to confirm what he already knew. Luke was alright.

* * *

In another place, much, much farther away, the shriveled shell of a man awoke from his disturbed sleep, dreams having turned into nightmares for a moment. Sitting up, the light in the room activating by his movement, Emperor Palpatine stared at the opposite wall thoughtfully, yellow eyes narrowed.

* * *

Somewhere else, a short, long-eared creature looked up from his contemplation of the cave mouth to the darker fears of one's own mind, feeling the shift that had taken place. It wasn't a large shift, really, or a dramatic one. But the brightness had pierced the general swirling light of the Force for a moment, differentiating it from the rest. 

For better or for worse.

Jedi Master Yoda 'hmm'ed and shifted in place, knowing there was nothing to do right now than wait. They had waited for a long time, what was a little longer?

"No way back from the dark side, there is. Taught, this has been, for many generations." Whether Yoda was only reaffirming this fact to himself, or asking something, there was no possibility of knowing. The small, rather spindly lesser bogwing that had been keeping the green little creature company indifferently flew off into the gloom.

* * *

And in a beautiful room, a 13 year old girl woke up and felt very alone. For one moment, however brief and in her dreams it had been, she had felt whole. 

Whatever or whoever had made her feel such had been in danger however, and desperate.

Hugging the soft, stuffed nerf toy to herself (which, by the way, she was going to stop sleeping with tomorrow. She was old enough not to sleep with stuffed toys, she had decided), the dark-eyed Leia Organa wowed to herself that she would become strong enough to protect whoever it was. No one that made her feel less alone should have to feel that desperate.

* * *

Harsh, artificial light bounced off polished black metal and was at the same time absorbed by the equally black cloth the man wore. A sharp movement of the helmet made the light skitter along the smooth surface as if scrabbling for a foothold as Darth Vader turned his head suddenly, startling the officer who had been reporting the latest movement of a small rebel faction's ships beyond Corellia into silence. 

The man paled and fingered the datapads he held, wondering if it was _he_ who had done something to garner that reaction from the dark lord. Vader on the other hand seemed to have forgotten that he wasn't alone in the room. In a searching and rather surprised tone of voice he said silently, wonderingly:

"Son?" No one dared to move, or even breathe, as Darth Vader uttered that lone word in his resonant and deep voice, however quiet he'd kept it.

It had rumbled through all the present officers with something resembling foreboding, but that was just ridiculous. The frozen time suddenly seemed to jump-start again as Vader turned his head back from staring into what appeared to be the right-hand wall of the conference room, and faced the other occupants again.

"Continue, Lieutenant." Vader rumbled and the man nodded, swallowed nervously and after a false start continued with his report. Unseen behind his mask, Vader barely kept from rolling his eyes in annoyance. The Navy really needed less easily scared officers.

And what had that cry been?

He'd heard it as clear as if it had been uttered by someone beside him, accompanied by an intense flare in the Force, the bright presence gripped by panic. But he did not have a son.

Any possible offspring had died with his wife. Indeed, she had died pregnant with their first child and he had never been with another woman, neither before nor after Padmé. Anakin Skywalker may be dead and buried, but he would not sully his wife's memory by taking another, had it even been possible.

Even if she had turned against him in his hour of need. Obi-Wan's fault. All of it. Shaking his head to rid it of useless thoughts, he nonetheless made a mental note to ponder the desperate call later.

It was most curious.

* * *

_... Son?_ The distant echo of a voice rumbled through Luke pleasantly, warming him from within with its darkly burning presence in the sudden ice that had enveloped him and spearing through the panic clouding his mind. Even if it had just been his imagination that his father had answered him, it helped. 

Besides, it didn't really register, at least not consciously, since Luke had more pressing and immediate concerns to take care of. Closing his eyes tightly behind the goggles, Luke shifted one hand from its handle to grab a control-stick he'd added. He wasn't sure if it would work, but it had been added to give more maneuverability to the podracer.

Jerking the control-stick to the side and in a half-rolling motion, Luke turned the 'racer to "stand" onto its side. Not a moment to late either, the podracer roared through the stone formation, small rocks being shaken loose and bouncing off the hot metal, skittering down to come to a rest on the desert floor.

Luke's eyes were still closed as he maneuvered the narrow space, making small adjustments to his course to keep him from banging into the sides of the Needle, sides he somehow knew where there without seeing them. And had he not avoided them, he would most probably have lost control, veered off the path and been left as an oily, debris-flying spot on the Canyon's wall.

Opening his eyes, as he was free of the Needle, Luke righted his podracer, gripped the handle again, and pushed the accelerator. Bantha poodoo Rodian! That had been close.

Luke wanted to hurl insults that would no doubt earn him more than a month of grounding, had Uncle Owen heard him. But there was no concentration to spare to anything but the race. Gritting his teeth, Luke pushed the craft to dangerous limits, especially in a rather confined space such as this. Due to the Rodian pushing him like that, he wasn't just going to win, kreth it, he was going to blow the Rodian out of the water (... figuratively speaking of course, since there wasn't much water on Tatooine)! It didn't matter that the Rodian was most probably a professional!

With a last turn and twist through a rather small crack, they were out on the desert floor again, and now it was speed that mattered. Keeping an eye out for the Rodian, so if he came up close again to try anything, Luke could veer away, he pushed the 'racer to give its all on this last stretch.

It was apparent that it had been built for speed as it first kept about half of its engines in front of the Rodian's, and then only continued to create even more lead. The two podracers burst into the rundown remains of Mos Espa Grand Arena with Luke easily in the lead. Passing the two round towers and the crumpled walkway that reached between them (having to avoid the pieces that had fallen down in the middle of the track), Luke cut the speed and slid a little before coming to a complete stop. He had made it!

Keeping in the delighted laughter that wanted to bubble up, Luke reveled in the feeling of having won. The victory, however personal and trivial sizzled through every nerve with tingling energy. Jumping out of the cockpit, Luke took off the helmet he'd been wearing, laid it calmly in the seat, and then sprinted around his, _his_, podracer bouncingly. He couldn't _help_ it!

"You're good, boy, no doubt about it. Got skill. Wouldn't want to try in a more... competitive scene?" The Rodian came up behind him, his own helmet under an arm, face unreadable (but when wasn't it?). Luke calmed himself and peered up at the alien suspiciously. While the offer was tantalizing, he wasn't stupid.

"No thanks. _This_ was all I wanted." He said pointedly, laying a hand on the silver and blue cockpit. There was a tense silence for a moment, and then the Rodian nodded easily.

"If you say so, boy. Can't make you leave this backward rock if you don't want to."

Luke swallowed and shifted in place, not liking the Rodian's tone. He _wanted_ to leave, of course, but Uncle Owen would never let him, especially if he said he wanted to leave to participate in an outlawed daredevil sport. Besides, he didn't want to leave just like that, leaving Aunt Beru all alone with Uncle Owen. She'd be so bored!

And he'd miss them both. He would leave one day, but not right now.

"I _do_ want to leave, but not right now." He said aloud, not sure if it was to convince the Rodian, or himself.


	4. Concerning You

Sneaking in slowly, slowly, Luke aimed for his bedroom. If he could just get past Aunt Beru and get to his room, he could explode in happiness in there and Aunt Beru would be none the wiser. It wasn't as if he could explain his burbling delight, and she was bound to pick up on his happiness.

"Welcome home, Luke." And just as he thought that he'd managed to sneak in without his Aunt noticing too. Turning towards the kitchen, he tried to tone down his grin, but was rather sure he didn't make it.

"Hi Aunt Beru! Have I mentioned today how much I love you?" If you can't hide the proof, try to make it invisible. His Aunt just chuckled, her gentle eyes shining with patience and love.

"No, I can't say you have, dear. But whatever it is, I'm glad it happened. I haven't seen you this happy in a long time, Luke."

Inwardly cringing at that, Luke nonetheless smiled and hugged his Aunt. He felt like scum. He could have died while racing, or at the very least been severely hurt, but did he think of that? Nooo. He just _had_ to have that podracer, and that had taken precedence over everything else, even his Aunt and Uncle's concern for him.

Just the thought of his Aunt's eyes shimmering with tears made him want to kick himself. And while he was used to the disapproval and slight disappointment in Uncle Owen's eyes, Luke knew his Uncle would be upset if anything happened to him. But at the same time he knew he would have done it, had he had the chance to choose again. Luke could just _not_ give up the fierce feeling of pride, happiness and delight at the thought of the 'racer. It would be the first step to help him reach the stars. And while he was slightly shameful now, it couldn't dissipate his happiness at all.

He may have done a bad thing, not thinking it through fully, and placing himself in the direct line of danger, but it had been worth it. It would be worth it even if his Aunt and Uncle found out now and (stars forbid!) Uncle Owen scrapped the podracer in anger. Not that he would let them find out.

"Thanks Aunt Beru! I'll try not to be so gloomy anymore. Anything you need help with?" Since he was feeling so happy, he could offer his help instead of being reluctantly roped into it. His Aunt just laughed softly and shook her head.

"I don't think you will be able to help it Luke, but the effort will be appreciated. And yes, I want you to lay the table for me, but later. There's someone waiting to talk to you outside."

Blinking in confusion, Luke walked from the kitchen and out into the central sunken court-yard, and up onto the desert outside at his Aunt's gesture, as she didn't seem inclined to say anything more about it. But her rather nervous glance upwards had him suspicious.

* * *

The wind was whipping gently around him when he came up and looked around, wondering just where this 'someone' that wanted to talk to him were. He didn't even have to search, a tall man in a brown, hooded robe stood by the crater created by the central sunken courtyard to the left of the entrance, looking at the twin suns. Luke neared him cautiously, because while the man seemed harmless enough, slightly bent by his years but still standing proud, Aunt Beru's telling glance had made him suspicious. Just as he came up to stand behind him, the man turned around and threw his hood back, smiling gently down at Luke. There was no danger here, only bright, gentle warmth. Luke smiled back, having relaxed instantly at the other's smile. The man was clothed in rough, homespun clothes, that reminded him of traditional Tatooine clothing, but there were differences. A name teased the edges of his mind.

"Hi, I'm Luke Skywalker."

The man chuckled and shook his hand.

"I know, Luke. I'm Ben Kenobi."

"The craz... uh... the old man who lives alone out by the Dune Sea?" Luke coughed embarrassed, now remembering what Uncle Owen had said about the "crazy old hermit". Ben chuckled good-naturedly, a mischievous twinkle in his blue eyes.

"Yes, the one and the same. And don't worry about it Luke, I know what your Uncle says about me."

Shrugging awkwardly, since even if Ben excused Uncle Owen's behavior, Luke still thought it embarrassing and slightly mean of Uncle Owen to say that about the man. He was maybe slightly different, didn't seem to really belong on Tatooine's desert wastes to Luke's eye, however much he actually blended in with the surroundings, but saying all the things Uncle Owen did? That was just mean.

"Um... so what did you want to talk to me about?" He had to admit to being curious, what could Ben want with him, since they didn't even know each other very well (he could remember one time of getting lost in a sandstorm on the way home and an old man finding him, leading him to the homestead. It had been Ben, he realized now)?

"Well Luke, it was more of checking up on you. We both know you have a tendency to tangle with trouble, so I thought I'd come by when you weren't in any sort of quandary. You're growing up fine, Luke. Your father would be proud." Ben placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled down at him gently, encouragingly. It was a little strange to be looked at with that kind of expression. Ben didn't seem to expect anything from him... then Luke's blue eyes grew wide and he floundered.

"You knew my father..! Was he... I mean, how..."

"Luke! Could you come and lay the table now? Uncle Owen will be back soon." Aunt Beru's call interrupted his flailing thoughts, and Ben smiled apologetically at him. It was as if she'd been _listening_ on them, and interrupted just when the conversation may have had a chance of becoming interesting.

"Maybe some other time, Luke. And just so you know," Here Ben leaned down to whisper in his ear, "you look just like he did when he was this age. Take care Luke." Raising his voice at the last three words, Ben raised the hood again, patted his shoulder and walked away, seemingly unconcerned with the distance between the Lars homestead and his own home.

* * *

Stark white surrounded him, and endless sea of blinding brightness. Why ever was the inside of the hyperbaric chamber white? He couldn't remember now. But it seemed slightly ridiculous and working against its own purpose now. He couldn't relax in it. He was breathing on his own, free of the helmet for a short while, but he couldn't relax as he usually did only in here.

But, he had to admit, that had probably less to do with the interior, and more with the mysterious "distress" call he'd heard earlier. That the Force-sensitive had been in peril and desperate for help, that much was clear, but he shouldn't have felt it so sharply, as if it had been his own, or heard the mental "voice" so clearly.

And there was no reason for him to have answered at all, and even less with "son". That the officers present in the room had heard him made him angry, that he'd been so careless made him even angrier. That someone somehow had lured him in replying with a word he would never be able to utter for real enraged him.

It was a mockery to him and he could not let it pass! And yet... What if it had been his son? But that was simply impossible. To even think that was betraying the memory of his... shaking his head, Darth Vader corrected himself. Padmé had not been his wife, but Anakin Skywalker's. And Anakin Skywalker was dead, killed by his Master Obi-Wan and his wife, Padmé. He had made a slip earlier by thinking of the woman as his own wife. He had to distance himself. His Master had told him he had killed her himself in his anger, and while that made the secret part of his mind cringe in horror and denial, that meant he had no children, even less a son.

But whoever this imposter was, he was good. There was a connection established already, tenuous and fragile, and harder than any durasteel, pulsing strongly between him and the Force-sensitive who had cried out in need. That anyone this bright and innocent (this was what could be felt most strongly through the infant bond), and, indeed, so earnest, could have used such disgusting subterfuge made Vader feel frozen.

Of course... there was a possibility someone had fed the boy lies, someone telling an innocent Darth Vader was his father and planning to use the boy as bait, while the innocent believed a lie.

In the back of his mind, Vader was very much aware that this kind of link, so new and yet impossibly strong as it was, could not exist between two people who were not connected in some _other_ way. But denial has always been humanity's best friend, and the dark lord was not ready to contemplate any other possibilities, than the one stating this was some sort of ruse.

He simply, but unconsciously, shied away from any implications of this being what it appeared to be (a son calling out for and connecting to his father). Anakin had so very much wanted a family with his beloved, and the child that she bore had brought such new, seemingly impossible highs, that he would not dare to think anything else than that Anakin's wife had died, and the child with her. It was best that way. But that still meant he had an imposter, or a misled innocent, on his hands, and he'd find him and deal with him accordingly.

* * *

When Luke disappeared through the doorway for his visit to his grandmother after the dinner, Beru turned to her husband with a sigh.

"He was so happy when he came in today, Owen. He didn't want to tell, and all boys need secrets, but I just know we can't keep him that happy." She wanted her nephew happy, he was such a bright and sweet boy and didn't deserve the darkness that lured somewhere just out of sight to pounce at the first unguarded moment. Owen grunted and glowered at the ceiling.

"He should be content with what he has. He's too much of a dreamer, just like his father. It will do him no good."

And while that may be true, not everybody could be like her beloved husband; disciplined, with down-to-earth wants and goals in mind. The difference between the two younger generations of Skywalkers that had visited in the past or lived here now and her husband was a gaping chasm they simply couldn't seem to cross. Only the older Skywalker, Owen's step-mother, held more than embarrassed affection or grudging respect tinged with anger.

"That may be, Owen, but can you really see any Skywalker being content with such a simple life as this? For you and me, yes, we don't want anything else, but this life is not for everyone. You know that."

"The point is moot, Beru. He's too young to leave anyway, and he will find no reason to leave from us. The Empire is too strong. What does that kooky old man expect from the boy anyway? A bloody miracle? I won't let Luke go off and get killed because _Obi-Wan Kenobi_ want him to go on some bloody fool crusade!" Owen growled and sat back, crossing his arms. For him, it was that easy. And maybe it was, but Beru couldn't help but think that they would not be able to keep Luke here, in their home, and on Tatooine indefinitely.

Standing up and collecting the dishes, Owen rising from his own seat to help her, Beru thought back on that evening when Obi-Wan had come riding out of the purple gloom and handed her a baby. Luke had been such a sweet baby, and he was a fantastic boy, who would no doubt grow up into a fine young man. But however she looked at it when she looked at Luke; the blond, slightly curling at the edges hair, the sparkling, clear blue eyes, the tanned skin from being out in the sun and the endless energy, she did not see the sands of Tatooine surrounding him.

What she always saw was the star-sprinkled void of space, forming streaks around him as if he was traveling at great speeds. Tatooine may be Luke's beginning, but it was neither his middle, nor his end. _Those_ lay among the stars. With a smile she turned to Owen and kissed him on the bearded cheek affectionately. Around Owen and herself however, she was sure the burning golden sands of Tatooine stretched into infinity, and she could not want anything else.

* * *

Sitting down with an oomph, Luke crossed his legs at his ankles and shifted around to make himself comfortable.

"Hi, Grandmother. I hope I'm not disturbing you. Not that you can tell me if I am, of course..." Luke trailed off, staring down in the sand and drawing squiggles with one finger.

"I did it. I _won_!" He had to stop here, to let the laugh bubble up freely, to express some of the happiness he felt for the reason that he _felt_ it, and not having to lie.

"It was _great_, Grandmother! I haven't felt anything like it, the wind, the speed, the... everything!" It was so hard to properly express the feelings tumbling around and over each other inside of him, and he wanted back there, to feel the 'racer hum all around him, in him, with him, hurtle down the corridors of Beggar's Canyon and the expanses of desert just to _feel_ it all again. He hadn't experienced anything like it, and at that moment when he closed his eyes to thread the Needle, now that he thought back about it, he could remember imagining in the back of his mind the void of space all around him, and trying to catch up with the stars, outrace them in their own element. The he sighed.

"But you know, I want to apologize to Aunt and Uncle, even if they don't know what for, because if I had crashed... I could have died or gotten hurt, and they wouldn't even have known. I wonder... would my father have been angry because I had worried him, or would he have been upset, but hugged me and been proud anyway? I hope it would have been the last." Finally winding down after a day filled with excitement and adrenalin, Luke breathed out explosively, sagging where he sat.

He had to admit that this was among one of the most stupid things he'd ever done. And that reminded him... looking inside, he found that strange, softly pulsing _thing_, both connected with his own inner "light" (he had never been able to figure out a better name for it), and separated from it. It was black, like the night, shot through with streaks of crimson, and beneath it all lit up by a hesitant, resilient pale light. Sometimes that underlying light seemed to collapse under the weight of the darkness and the crimson streaks, but it was still there Luke knew, just not as... clearly as it could be. It felt tingly and familiar, comforting, somehow.

If he thought about it, he could trace its appearance back to an exact moment... And that was when he cried out in panicked desperation (he was slightly embarrassed about that now) for his father. Did it mean anything? _Could_ it mean anything? But the thing was silent, sometimes it seemed to not even be there, just a shadow of a flicker in the back of his mind if he thought really hard about it, and sometimes it seemed as bright (if darkness could be bright) and clear as the suns themselves. Whatever it was, it wasn't going to explain itself. Not yet, at any rate.

* * *

Metal sparkled in the moonlight as the slightly rounded, rectangular object was turned around, around and around, sent spinning on its own axis by still nimble, if not maybe as nimble as before, fingers. He could have found out what had made Luke's Force presence flare so brightly in panic earlier. It wouldn't have been hard, since the boy had been very excited about something, the thoughts just below the surface and easy to touch. But Luke had been alright, not a scratch on him, and Ben hadn't wanted to intrude. Now he wondered if he shouldn't have done so anyway, because who knew what it could lead to, whatever it was? But he hadn't been able to do it.

"Who knows... maybe it was for the best? What would you have done, Anakin? Or maybe you would have been right beside him, sharing his secret?" It hurt to think, and talk about it. Since mentions of Anakin, even only in his own mind, always lead to remembrance of his friend's betrayal...

And of his own betrayal of said friend. If he had killed Anakin when he'd had the chance, nothing of this, or at least not exactly, would have happened. His friend, brother, would have been left out of this, wouldn't have become even more ensnared by the darkness. But he hadn't been able to do it, and just left. His own, ultimate betrayal to crown the small, little failings over the years. The lightsaber did another circle. And now, sooner or later, Luke would be dragged into it, would possibly have to commit one of the gravest of crimes. To kill his own father.

"No. His father, Anakin Skywalker, is already dead." All because of the failings of an older generation. But isn't that always how it goes? The older generation missteps, and the younger has to right it again. Another flashing circle as the lightsaber turned. Ben wondered what Owen would say if he wanted to tell Luke some of his history, and give him his father's lightsaber...

* * *

"I hope you are aware you still owe me money." The crackling from the holo-projector didn't lessen the soft voice's threatening tone at all. The old projector didn't make justice to the beautiful Twi'lek woman who lazily filed her claws, glancing over at the Rodian on the other "end". Sand skittered and whispered under the Rodian's boots as he shifted his weight. It didn't matter what precautions you took, on Tatooine, sand always found its way in everywhere.

"I'm aware of that, Milady. And I will have your money after the next race. I've found a... stand-in racer to pilot a podracer for me. He'll win and the money will be yours."

The Twi'lek woman sneered at the nervous Rodian, apparently not very impressed.

"I will hold you to that. And if you don't have the money after the race, I'm collecting them out of your hide." She didn't bother with any sort of farewell, just broke the connection. The Rodian stood still several moments, appearing relieved that he was still alive, even if the woman couldn't have killed him through the channel. He'd survived this long, and he wasn't about to end up as a slave to _her_ just because he had some trouble with getting the money he owed her. He had a plan now, after all, and his "replacement" had more _potential_ skill than some of the veteran racers had acquired over years of racing.

He'd survive.

Whether his replacement pilot did, on the other hand, he couldn't care less.


	5. Not Ready Yet

Disclaimer: I don't own anything in this story except for the idea.

_(Dream)_

_/thoughts/ _

* * *

Normally the hours before dawn were the most peaceful and pleasant ones, the frigid cold beginning to lessen, but no blasting heat as the suns had not risen yet, everything silent and still. That was, normally. 

"NO! I forbid it! Get out of here! You won't fill his head with your foolish ideas! The Order is dead, and you should let it stay so! GET OUT!" It was a wonder the homestead's only still sleeping occupant hadn't been woken up by the angry roar. Owen looked as if he wanted to throw Ben out headfirst, but stood frozen by the chair he'd flown out of.

"Get out, and stay away. I don't want you near the boy again." The man's determination and protectiveness were admirable, but right now they worked against Ben, who just sighed, nodded to Beru and walked out of the kitchen to the central plaza to do as Owen had asked. There was no reason in raising a fuss. But that didn't mean he couldn't leave Luke a little present...

* * *

_(The suns were bright and golden in the sky, the desert never-ending around him as he blasted over the sandy stretches at incredible speeds. There was a cliff in front of him, but he knew the podracer could manage. Accelerating a little more, he sped out over the cliff and continued to fly into black nothingness, stars filling his vision. It was beautiful, but as always something had to mar the perfection. Something was hunting him, following behind and coming ever closer. It didn't matter how fast he tried to go, it was still there, following right behind him, but not catching up, not yet. But that wasn't the really strange thing, _that_ was that he caught himself wanting to slow down, to turn around and see what was hunting him. Because it was strange, the thing felt both familiar and comforting and at the same time filled with looming, incomprehensible danger. He didn't know what it was, and yet it was so familiar that he wanted to turn around..._

_"Luke..." That..! He may never have heard his father's voice, but somehow he was sure of it, that _was_ it! The deep, passionate rumbling couldn't belong to anyone else, of that Luke was sure._

_"Luke..." He was going to stop, to turn around. He _had_ to see if._..)

"Luke! Get up!"

"AUGH!" With a surprised jerk at being so roughly torn from his dream, Luke flailed and with a thump fell off his bed, hopelessly tangled in his blanket. Blinking up at the spotted, off-white ceiling, Luke scowled.

"I'm up, I'm up." He called to his Uncle, but didn't move from his spot on the sun-warmed floor before he heard Uncle Owen move away. Muttering insults in Huttese to the world in general, Luke fought off the blanket and got up on his knees, slumping his upper body onto the bed. This was a _sucky_ way to start the day. And somehow, he had a feeling it wouldn't get better, just continue to be filled with unpleasant revelations.

How, or why that was, he couldn't say, but it was like a combination of his gut feeling and _something_ in the air. Sure, things can't be good forever, but Luke couldn't figure out what could make this day so much worse than any of the others. Routine doesn't change, even if it had been interrupted by the arrival of the Rodian and his subsequent winning of the repaired podracer two weeks ago. He'd raced it as often as he'd been able since then, only abstaining the afternoons he met up with Biggs and the others. He wanted to tell Biggs his big secret, but he hadn't dared. It wasn't that he thought Biggs would tell anyone, but he could, without meaning to, let it slip at some sensitive moment, and Luke didn't want to risk being found out. So he kept his 'racer a secret.

With a final sigh, Luke moved from his spot of sitting on the floor and half-lying on the bed, scouring after some relatively clean (not dirtier than anything else, at least) clothes and was about to leave his room for the kitchen and some breakfast, when an object wrapped in some cloth lying just below his window caught his eyes.

It hadn't been there before.

Picking it up, Luke studied the wrapped object. It was heavy and probably made of metal, from what he could tell from the feel of it. The cloth was nothing special, except that it was the softest thing he'd ever felt. The weave was incredibly fine, and like _nothing_ you could find on Tatooine. Wherever it had come from, it must have cost a fortune.

Luke slowly unwrapped the object, sunlight catching the metal as it was freed and sent reflexes playing on the walls and floor. Carefully laying the piece of cloth on the bed behind him, barely catching the datapad that had been hidden by some folds, Luke studied the rectangular... thing. He could _almost_ recognize it, but wasn't sure... Finding a button he pressed it and was probably infinitely happy the lightsaber's opening had been facing _away_ from him, as the clear blue energy blade suddenly flashed and took form.

_/A lightsaber!. /_ Luke's wide eyes followed the blade as he carefully waved the weapon around, listening to the humming buzz that came from the blade. This was so cool! Shutting the lightsaber off, Luke laid it onto the bed beside the cloth. _/A lightsaber. But why.../_ It didn't matter how he wracked his brain, Luke couldn't come up with why one would be here, since they had belonged to... to... With a frown, he realized he didn't know. It wasn't as if lightsabers were usual. Realizing he wouldn't get to know anything by just standing here staring into space, Luke picked up the slightly scratched and definitely well-used datapad, hoping it would be able to explain things. The message that appeared when he switched it on wasn't long, however.

_Luke, this lightsaber belonged to your father. I'm sure he would have wanted you to have it. Be careful and take good care of it. /Ben_

_P.S Don't let your Aunt or Uncle see it, as I'm sure they would be rather upset._

Staring incredulously at the message, Luke shook his head slowly. This didn't tell him _anything_! No, wait, it did. His father had had a lighsaber. It had been his _father's_! But how? Where had he gotten it from, and why had he had it? Ben's short message didn't really tell him anything at all...

With a frustrated growl, Luke deleted the message (wouldn't do to let Uncle Owen find it), placed the datapad with his others since there was no sense in not using a fully functional one, rewrapped his father's lightsaber in the cloth it had come in, and hid it inside his clothes, wedging it inside his belt. It was a little bulky, but since all his clothes were slightly too large anyway, he was sure neither Aunt Beru nor Uncle Owen would notice.

Now he had to go over to Ben's sometime soon. Ben must surely have known his father, since he had said Luke looked like him, _and_ had given him his father's lightsaber. Plotting a time to sneak away to Ben's, Luke finally left his room for the day, trying to shake off the feeling that this was the last he would see of his room, and Aunt Beru and Uncle Owen, for a long time. But that just couldn't be true.

* * *

Sun burning from above and the wind tearing at his clothes, Luke felt fierce happiness and freedom, however temporary, sing through him. He'd almost forgone his almost-daily race and sneaked off to Ben's instead, but he hadn't been able to resist the lure of speed and the feelings that came with it. 

So here he was as usual (when he wasn't with Biggs), tearing through the desert of Tatooine, but keeping well away from any settlements. It would be stupid to have kept the 'racer this long and be seen by some farmer spreading the rumor of someone racing in the desert. Somehow, he just knew Uncle Owen or Aunt Beru would connect it with his elation these past few weeks and confront him about it. And then there would be nothing to it but confess.

And that had to be avoided at all costs.

He was almost back to where the Rodian had shown him he could hide the 'racer with the Rodian's own, when the suns struck something that glinted in the sunlight. With a frown, Luke closed up on it, slowing down. It was a ship, a rather large one too. What was a ship doing out here in the nothingness? Stopping fully, Luke released the straps and jumped out of the podracer, staying right beside his craft and trying to spot any reason for the ship to be standing here. The shadows at the lowered ramp moved, and then someone Luke recognized detached himself from them. The Rodian.

"Uh, you okay? I mean, should you really be standing here in the middle of nowhere? You never know when Sandpeople might show up." Luke asked, feeling nervous for some reason. He'd taken off his helmet, and was now playing with the loose straps hanging down from it. Pushing up the goggles onto his forehead (the very same pair the Rodian had given him at the race, he liked them, and since the Rodian didn't ask for them, he'd kept them), Luke leaned against the side of his 'racer, shifting nervously. The Rodian shrugged, and while you couldn't really go on his facial expressions or his eyes to figure out his moods, there was nonetheless _something_ in the Rodian's opaque, inscrutable eyes that Luke didn't like.

"I assure you, everything is as it should be. The question is rather why you'd stop at the first sign of something off, boy? Do you have that little self-preservation?" The Rodian's voice was taunting, and Luke stiffened.

"Hey! Someone could have been in trouble! I have to check at least. If I could have helped I can't just blast past and ignore it!" Luke protested, eyes narrowing. "But fine! Since everything's alright here, I'm leaving!" Turning around to jump into the podracer's cockpit again, Luke barely avoided the ray of energy headed for him. As it was, had he not have been racing these past two weeks and listening much more attentively to his "gut feeling", he would have been hit. Helmet landing with a soft thunk in the sand beside the 'racer, Luke's body hit the ground and rolled before he jumped up to a crouch, eyes wild.

"What the..!" The next stun blast almost hit him, Luke throwing himself to the sandy ground just in time for it to strike where he'd been last. Unfortunately, he'd landed full on his stomach, and as he scrabbled to get onto his feet, he was hit in the back. Half-strangled gasp as the stunning blast of energy took hold, a mental cry dying quickly in his mind.

_Father!_

The Rodian stood still for a moment; blaster trained on the still body in the sand before he grunted contentedly and holstered the weapon. The boy had resisted longer than he'd thought, but in the end, the result had been the same. He'd get those money and be free of that _rancor_ of a female.

* * *

For the second time in short order, Ben was ripped from his meditation by Luke's Force presence flaring in panic and fear and then... quiet. Calming himself before he stretched out to look for Luke's distinct signature, what he found made his insides churn. It wasn't gone, but that didn't mean anything. 

No, it was... subdued, was the closest word he could think of, as if Luke was asleep... or unconscious. And as he stood there, it became fainter, as if drawing further away in distance. Cold gripped Obi-Wan's insides and he whirled around, nearly tipping the chair he'd been sitting on to the floor in his haste. Whatever had happened was different from the moment of danger he'd felt two weeks ago. This time, Luke seemed to be leaving Tatooine altogether. Stopping in the middle of the hut, Obi-Wan took a deep breath and released it slowly. _/Calm yourself, old man. You won't be of any help if you panic, and panic will only cloud you mind./_ Calmer now, Obi-Wan left the hut for the Lars homestead. First order was to find Luke. Even if Obi-Wan knew, in the back of his mind, that they would find nothing.

* * *

Darth Vader stood patiently in front of the large view port on the bridge of the Star Destroyer the Gauntlet when the cry reached him. Fainter than the last time and seemingly almost cut off at the end, Vader was startled enough to try and reach out, but as before, the presence seemed to avoid his grasp, as if someone had gone to great lengths to shield whoever it was. 

He'd been trying to track the Force-sensitive during these last two weeks, and had finally pinned it down to Tatooine. _/It figures. The one planet I have no love for./_ Vader sneered and barely kept the urge to strangle the closest person just that, an urge. But that cry had him... apprehensive. He had a feeling his searching had just been extended for one reason or another, and that hardly made his temper better. Tapping a gloved hand against his thigh, the dark lord waited for them to drop out of hyperspace.

* * *

"Owen! Beru?" Obi-Wan had taken as little time as he could to get to the homestead, and he was in luck, since it appeared both Owen and Beru were home. Owen on the other hand, didn't seem very happy at seeing him if his thunderous expression was anything to go by. Which wasn't so strange really, with a thought to how things had played out this morning. 

"What did I say, Ben?" Owen growled angrily, "I wanted you to leave, and that means you don't come back later the very same day!"

Beru frowned at her husband and was about to ask what the older man was doing here when he held up a hand to forestall her.

"No time for that, Owen. I'm not here to tell Luke anything. Where is he?"

Owen opened his mouth to angrily tell Obi-Wan off, when he shook his head again.

"I said we don't have time for that Owen! I felt Luke cry out, something has happened that he doesn't have any say in, and it could be potentially dangerous for him!"

Beru gasped and grabbed Owen's arm.

"He went into Anchorhead, like usual. Either to go to the Tosche Station to meet his friends or to work for the Rodian who keeps an eye on the junkyard."

That was it.

Obi-Wan knew it, but he also knew he couldn't say anything.

"Let's go to Anchorhead then and check those two places. Someone must know where he is." The 'if he's still on the planet' hung heavily in the air.

* * *

Just as the Gauntlet dropped out of hyperspace close to the one planet Darth Vader had wished to never return to, he got the feeling that something _very_ important was about to slip through his fingers. 

"Captain, open a channel to whomever is in command down there." Turning back to the view port, Vader saw a ship hurtle through space and frowned.

There was... something...

Too late he realized that it was the Force-sensitive whose presence he'd felt these past two weeks that was on that ship, but it was muted, different from the 'shielding', more like as if the boy was sleeping, or unconscious. Opening his mouth to order the Captain to stop the ship and catch it with the tractor beam, the ship suddenly seemed to pause for a fraction of a section, and then disappeared into hyperspace. Slamming his fist against the glass of the view port, Vader whirled around.

"I want that ship's trajectory tracked; any possible planets in its current path listed, and is that channel open yet?" It wasn't a roar, not even close, but the restrained violence and volume in the voice had the personnel scrambling to obey his orders.

"Lord Vader, the channel is open now."

Stalking over to the comm. unit, he didn't wait for a greeting, just started talking.

"Has there been anything unusual reported?"

The man on the other side dithered for a second before answering. Must be scared stiff. For some reason, that amused him. Or would have amused him, had he not been preoccupied.

"Well, Lord Vader, not exactly. The only thing that has come in was two weeks ago, when there was a report of podracers, which are illegal as you know, being spotted in what remains of the Mos Espa Grand Arena. When troops arrived they didn't find anything though, but there were signs of recent activity. We have been keeping a look out, but whoever they were didn't return to the arena."

_/Of course not. Idiot. Who would stay in the same place, where one can be easily found, when practicing an illegal sport?. /_ Vader wanted to sneer at the man, but as it was, he couldn't. He was about to terminate the call out of frustration when the officer on the other side continued.

"There was one thing our troops found, Lord Vader. There seems to have been a leftover holocam forgotten somewhere in Beggar's Canyon, which picked up on the podracing activity and activated, following the race up until the Arena and closing down when they entered it. The recording is of quite good quality, for such an old holocam but I don't see why you would nee-" Vader immediately ended the call and turned to the Captain of the Gauntlet.

"Ready a shuttle, Captain Millet." He hissed and stalked out of the bridge.

That was it.

He had all the pieces he needed now, really. He'd find out where the next illegal podrace where, and with any chance the recording would at least give him an acceptable picture of the podracers involved. Then it was just a matter of finding either of those at the race, because he was sure the Force-sensitive had been one of the racers reported two weeks ago.

He'd get to the bottom of this.


	6. Against Time

They hadn't been able to find him. It was as Obi-Wan had feared. Luke was no longer on Tatooine.

He was staying with Owen and Beru for now, since if they found out anything, it would be easier if they were all in one place. But he had the unsettling feeling that it was out of their hands now, that things were moving beyond them. Rubbing his beard with one hand, Obi-Wan sighed and stared out at the desert.

Lifting his head, he addressed a woman long dead. _/I failed you, Padmé. Just as I failed Anakin. How am I supposed to find one boy in this galaxy?. /_ Besides that, he had felt a presence he could have gone longer without feeling again.

Vader was on the planet.

But since he was aiming at keeping himself hidden for now, he couldn't die just yet, he was rather certain Vader wasn't here for him. If that was the case, he knew they would already be fighting. No, Vader was here for something... someone... oh, stars! else. Looking back towards the homestead, he decided he wouldn't tell the couple inside who was here. They didn't need to know yet. Hopefully, things would work themselves out, but he did not have much hope for any good resolution. It was once again to wait.

* * *

His limbs were all screaming at him as he woke up, everything aching and protesting as his body shook off the effects of the stun blast. Opening his eyes, Luke groaned and raised a hand rub his face. Well, he tried. Whatever he did, _both_ hands followed. Reluctantly opening his eyes to face reality, he stared down at the manacles that bound his hands together and in front of him. At least they weren't held behind his back. There wasn't much to look at, the area he was in was of "common room" style, a table bolted to the floor, which, Luke saw, also held a holoproj, the bench (also, of course, bolted to the wall) he was sitting on, the kitchen area of to the right, cabins to the left and the cockpit up straight. It was surprisingly small for a ship of the size Luke had seen from the outside, but he guessed the rest was for cargo. One, not to talk about two, podracers must take up quite a lot of space. 

"Awake now, I see. How're you feelin', boy?" The Rodian's scratch-hiss drilled into Luke's still-tender brain, and he really, really wanted to scream at the man to shut up and use his name kreth it! But he wasn't really _that_ reckless; even if there was proof showing otherwise.

"As if you care. Just get away from me." Luke muttered angrily, wishing that his hands were free, if only so he could hug himself and rub some of this _cold_ out of his bones. It was so infernally _cold_. He hadn't noticed it at first, but now he was practically shaking with it.

"I prefer the key in my plan to actually be able to do his job and not collapse. I guess you wouldn't be wantin' this then?" Despite the Rodian's taunting words, he placed a glass full of something that was warm in front of Luke, and dropped a blanket around his shoulders.

"Forgot planetsiders like you, especially from such a warm planet like Tatooine, would feel the cold more acutely."

Holding the glass in both hands, partly because he _had_ to, partly to warm them, and partly because they were shaking form the cold and using one hand wouldn't be smart, Luke glowered at the Rodian from under his lowered lashes.

"Yeah, thanks. _Really_." This was worse than anything that had ever happened! Not even that time he had gotten lost in the sandstorm could measure up to this! He was cold, miserable, missed his Aunt and Uncle, and wasn't sure he was going to get home. While he knew he was going to get used to the cold, the rest no one could do much to fix. Except the Rodian of course, and since he'd done all this, Luke didn't think he was going to turn the ship around and take him home because Luke was _homesick_.

Quickly drinking up whatever it was in the glass, only partly from fear of the Rodian taking it away out of sheer sadistic pleasure; Luke scowled at nothing and turned to the Rodian sitting on the other side of the bench, feet up on the table.

"Why am I here? I mean, what do you want? It isn't as if I have anything to offer." Luke licked his suddenly dry lips as he thought of the only things he _had_ to offer, and had to bite his tongue to keep from crying. The alien shrugged, seemingly not caring much about his captive's state of mind.

"I owe someone money. You've got some real potential skills with the racing, boy, so we're going to the next race, you race and win, I get the money to pay this someone back, you get to go home. It's that easy."

Staring at the green-skinned creature, Luke was suddenly filled with bubbling anger. That was what the Rodian had kidnapped him for? To race for him so he could repay a _debt_! The burning resentment all came out in one long, vicious string of Huttese, expounding the Rodian's lineage, his wits, and his future generations in as foul a language as Luke could come up with. When he finally ran out of words, he collapsed back against the wall.

"At least you haven't lost your fire, boy. Feel lucky I didn't take offense. Others wouldn't be so lenient." The Rodian laughed, got up from the bench and walked around the table. Luke cringed back as far as he could, not that he had anywhere to go, but of course it didn't help. The Rodian just grabbed his upper arm, hauled him to his feet and dragged him over to one of the small cabins, pushing him inside.

"You'll be staying in here until we get to our destination. I'll come back in three hours so you'll have a chance to use the 'fresher then. Have fun."

The door closed and was supposedly locked, leaving Luke in a half-gloom as the light wasn't very good in the small cabin. With a sigh he walked the few steps to the cot and collapsed on it, feeling as if all energy suddenly had escaped him. It was just so cold.

* * *

The sand was almost white where the sun fell on it, light reflecting off the surface to create the light that almost made Tatooine look like a third sun. As the whine of an engine died down, blackness suddenly fell over the sand as two boots were firmly placed down on the ground. The cape just brushing the sand, and all light seemed to flee before the dark figure that exuded so much darkness. And the light that didn't get away was absorbed into the dark cloth. A man in a rumpled uniform stood a few paces away, evidently trying to smooth out the cloth nervously, but not having much success. He neared the dark lord most reluctantly, but trying not to _show_ that reluctance and saluted. 

"L-lord Vader. It's an honor to have you here..." The poor man trailed off as he realized the Sith lord wasn't paying attention to him, harsh breaths from the respirator filling the dark lord's silence.

"There is something... I haven't felt in a long time..." Abruptly cutting off the mutterings, Vader whirled at the official who had a hard time to not jerk in fright.

"Show me this recording, now." Since Vader apparently did not require an answer, only action, the officer nodded and turned around, leading the way to the building where the Imperial presence on Tatooine was housed. Vader stalked beside the man, a cloud of ill-temper seemingly hovering around him. Even if it was his old master he was feeling, which seemed slightly ridiculous, what were the odds? he _also_ had the feeling every moment counted when it came to this Force-sensitive.

There were no definite _reasons_, even less any dreams such as those he'd had in his youth, but there was a definite sense of... urgency. And for that, for this possible son however highly unlikely, even the pleasure of killing his old master would have to step aside. But it was hard. The anger, the desire for revenge at being left so cruelly to die a slow death had his Master not come for him, made it very hard not to storm off in the direction of where the dulled light, like dust having collected over a light-unit over the years, of Kenobi was coming from. He was so close, and yet, when it all came down to it, so far.

The building was coated in a fine patina of sand, impossible to keep anything clear of the sand on this planet; otherwise it was apparent it was kept in good repair. The air in the building was slightly cooler than the outside too, but not by much. The air-conditioner had to work for full power to even create that slight a difference and no one wanted to push it. As Vader stepped inside the entrance, followed by the slightly panting officer, he seemed, for all that black, to be the one that remained unaffected by the heat.

Of course, no facial expression could be seen because of the mask. But had it been, it would have been graced by an expression of outmost disgust at having to be back and irritation at having to remain even this long on the planet. No one would have seen any discomfort caused by the heat. Indeed, even now, so long after he last left Tatooine, even in this suit, the heat was inconsequential. It was part of life. That it _still_ was part of his life, managing to sneak back inside even when he thought he'd left it behind for the last time... now that, angered him.

"Well?" He demanded imperviously of the officer beside him, tone clearly stating he should have been shown that recording, and _yesterday_! The officer paled and almost ran off, but made a good show of not running as he lead the dark lord further inside the building, to a rather cramped office. It seemed this officer wasn't very orderly. Mentally sneering at that, Vader hooked his thumbs in his belt as he waited for the man to find the recording so he could be _off_ this planet. That this place had even been graced with a name he could not understand. It wasn't as if there was _anything_ here.

"Aahh. Here it is, Lord Vader. While the holocam was in surprisingly good condition, the quality's still rather shaky in some spots, but we haven't been able to find out why." Translation; they hadn't tried, because why would they? While podracing was illegal, two joy riders was hardly anything to bust their backs for.

The screen blanked out for a second as the recording started, then there was a soft hissing sound of static and the picture cleared, showing the towering red-brown cliffs of one of the canyons littering Tatooine's surface. As the little holocam zipped out of the nook it had been hiding in, for what? The last thirty or something years? It became clear it was Beggar's Canyon. He'd recognize those twists and turns anywhere.

It took bare seconds for the repulsordrift that kept the little holocam moving to catch up to the two podracers. The first that came into view was one with large, round engines and a red-blue pattern painted on the cockpit as it was closest to the holocam, but then the picture first zoomed out and up, the holocam had probably gone for a higher altitude to give a better recording of what was going on, then it zoomed in on the second 'racer, and everything stuttered to a stop.

Blue and silver flashed in the sunlight, at times partially obscured by shadow, the brown of the Canyon reduced into an insignificant smear at the picture's edges. Thin, cylindrical engines, more powerful than they seemed to be let the little craft keep up easily with the one with larger engines, and Vader's fingers curled as if gripping something. It could not...

But the proof was there, just beyond his reach and several weeks back in time. The markings were slightly different, but everything else, from color to looks, fit the podracer he'd built himself. The one Qui-Gon Jinn had sold for money so the ship could be fixed. Why, and _how_ had it come back here, in the hands of whoever...

Silver and blue flashed in the sunlight as the larger 'racer suddenly bumped into the smaller one, forcing it slightly off its current path. The reason was clear as the holocam zoomed beyond the 'racers to give a view of what was coming up.

The Needle.

Desperation. Fear. A call that seemed to reach him anew, even from days and weeks away, reverberating up his spine and into his brain, for a moment making the bond reach outwards, unfolding like a flower towards the sun before it collapsed again, the memory not strong enough to make it go beyond what was already there.

Determination. Relief/concentration. Time started again as the silver and blue podracer cleared the Needle with aplomb and tore after the other 'racer with a vengeance. He had what he needed, so why wasn't he leaving? He did not need to see the end of the race, he did not need to see whether or not the Force-sensitive won or not.

It was of no consequence and yet he couldn't make himself move from his spot in front of the screen, fingers still slightly curled around non-existent handles while his thumbs connected him with reality, hooked into the belt as they were. And still he didn't move, not until the little silver-blue craft had rushed past the larger 'racer and into the arena, the holocam's recording sputtering into nothingness as it closed off. That it had gotten even that much was something of a miracle. Thumbing on the comm. unit he wore, Vader left the office. Now to leave the planet.

"Captain Millet, have you found out which planets lay in the ship's current trajectory?" The thirty-something Captain's liquid voice answered, once again standing out in contradiction to the man's rather tired and unimpressive appearance, even if Vader couldn't see him right now.

"Yes, Milord. And especially one of them can be a possible destination. Since there was a mention of podracers, I recall there was a rather foolhardy track for it on Ord Ibanna. That planet is in the current trajectory's path." Every now and then, you meet people who are not total incompetents. And while he'd have to check where the next illegal race would be, there was something telling him there was no need. Ord Ibanna was it.

"Captain, prepare to set a course for Ord Ibanna."

"Already done Milord. We are ready to leave as soon as you come aboard." Sometimes, you certainly get men can think forward. Captain Millet may have been jittery and uncertain how he should behave towards the temperamental second in command of the Empire that had suddenly taken command of his ship, but he had adjusted quickly, and rather admirable too. Behind his mask, Vader smiled tightly, muscles straining slightly. It was almost, _almost_ making up for the fact that he had to leave Kenobi behind... alive. He'd just take care of it after he'd finished his current, and rather urgent, business.

* * *

Luke wasn't sure how long they'd been in hyperspace, but his internal clock, if it now could be trusted after having been stunned and then thrown in a ship and leaving the planet, said around two days. It had been two of the most boring days in his life. Not even the slowest and hottest day back on Tatooine could ever compare. 

He'd only been let out of the cabin for short moments, to eat or use the 'fresher, and since there was nothing to _do_ inside the cabin... He'd remembered the lightsaber, but he couldn't cut himself free with both hands stuck together as they were. He'd probably chop his own hands off first or something. Besides that, he didn't know how to use it, so even if he'd gotten free of the binders, the Rodian could probably easily have incapacitated him again and taken away the lightsaber. And _that_ he didn't want. The chance of seeing it again if that happened was probably about as much as the chance for rain on Tatooine.

There were soft clunks and clangs as the ship docked wherever they had arrived at, and Luke sighed, trying to ignore the anxiousness bubbling in the pit of his stomach as he bounced on the balls of his feet in front of the door. He wanted out of this cabin, and this ship. If he never saw it again, it would definitely be too soon!

"Eager, ain't you?" The Rodian did his version of a laugh, and Luke had to keep his grimace from being anything more than mental. Stupid Rodian, stupid debt, stupid him, stupid, stupid, stupid!

The air was heavy, having a taste-smell of something sharp and a little bitter that made Luke's nose itch. The sky was cloudy, majestic pale collections shaded in violet, blue and yellow covering everything. Not even the sun could be seen. There were some clouds below the floating platform they were on, but they were much thinner, and you could see the swirling of purple gasses that the planet consisted of below. They were standing on a floating platform, kept aloft by repulsordrifts, just as everything else on the planet. But it was also clear that this place was pretty much abandoned by any authority and left to its own; most of the floating platforms and abandoned gas refineries were run-down and visibly stripped of anything that could be used as anything else.

Despite this, there was quite a lot of activity down where Luke guessed the podracers were, and the grandstands, even if they looked rather... makeshift, were filled with people milling about. It was clear _something_ was going on here alright. But where was the track? The only thing Luke could see was floating platforms, often with large drops and gaps between them, pipes and skyways littering the skyline. It couldn't be... his stomach dropped like a stone, lying like a rock somewhere by the end of his spine.

He was going to have to race along those. The realization banged loudly around in his brain and suddenly this was much, much worse. Except that treacherous little voice whispering how _exciting_ and _challenging_ this would be. They stopped in front of a Twi'lek woman who stood at the end of the platform where a broad skyway connected it to the main refinery and the podracing pits. Luke momentarily forgot his inner panic and stared. She was tall and slender, her head tentac... eh, they were named lekku, weren't they? Her _lekku_ wrapped artfully around her shoulders as she studied her fine-boned fingers, apparently waiting for the two of them.

"Finally here, are you? Just in time too." Her yellow-orange eyes were narrowed dangerously, and her derogatory tone told anyone within reach that she didn't held this Rodian very highly at all. Then her glance slipped down to Luke, and she made a questioning sound.

"_This_ is your "replacement"? He's just a child!" For a second, Luke wanted to bristle, but he realized she didn't mean anything against him, not really. He _was_ just a child... and human. One slender, dark purple hand was laid on his shoulder as her narrowed glare zeroed in on the Rodian.

"You'd better hope the boy wins your money, filth, because otherwise I'm going to _enjoy_ taking the worth out of _you_." She smiled unpleasantly at the end, showing off razor-sharp and filed teeth. The Rodian hissed at her and pushed Luke into her, muttering about setting the podracer up. The Twi'lek still had a grip on his shoulder, so she simply started walking and steered him away from the platform, walking them towards the pits and grandstands.

"You think you can manage this, boy?" The Twi'lek's elegant voice broke through Luke's haze and he whipped his head around to stare up at her, scowling.

"My name is Luke Skywalker, and not 'boy'!" Then he frowned, mentally hitting himself. That hadn't been very smart. The Twi'lek woman laughed, silver in the sharp air, and tilted her head to look down at Luke.

"Luke Skywalker, hmm? That's a pretty nice name. You haven't told him, have you?" The silver decorations that curled in a vine-pattern around her lekku flashed in the muted sunlight, her armless bodysuit in smoky gray matching the decorations. Luke shook his head, frowning slightly warily up at her. She knew about his father, that he was the sole human who had won a race; he could hear it in her voice. But if that was a good thing or not...

"No. I told him another last name."

She chuckled again, and nodded, seemingly satisfied.

"Well, Mr. Skywalker, I'm Neela Sha'pri. You may have what it takes to get through the race if your name indicates anything. I'll tell you something..." Here she leaned down to whisper in his ear, breath warm against the shell of his ear and the lekku twitching slightly where his shoulder was pressed up against them softly. "I like you. You don't have to win. Just get through the race alive and I'll get you home. It'll be my _pleasure_ to get my money's worth out of that _worthless_ bag of filth." She stood back, face expressionless, but eyes twinkling amused fire. Blinking, Luke collected his thoughts and smiled, bowing quickly.

"Thank you Ms. Sha'pri. I'd like that!" He said brightly just as the Rodian returned and Neela smiled and nodded, their secret hiding in her bright eyes like a wicked flame.

"I thought you would, Mr. Skywalker. Good luck." That said, Neela walked away slowly, her hips swaying. Luke grinned again, then quickly stifled it when the Rodian grabbed his upper arm and more or less dragged him away, not letting him walk on his own.

"You'd better win; boy, or else you won't get home." The Rodian hissed at him as he pushed him over to Luke's podracer where it was standing in line with over ten others. Luke gritted his teeth and just nodded as he jumped into his 'racer, securing his goggles and helmet.

_/I don't have to win at all! Of course, I'll try since that'd be really cool, but first and foremost, I'm gonna concentrate on surviving, you bantha poodoo!./_ He hissed in his mind before turning all concentration back to the impending race. Yes, that was the problem, wasn't it?

He had to _survive_ this.

And no matter how much/little training he'd gotten in, in the past two weeks, it was nothing like racing against real, seasoned opponents out to win, he understood that. Luke hoped his gut feeling wouldn't let him down now, because otherwise, he wouldn't be getting home. The thought sat heavy in the back of his mind as the light suddenly flashed on and gave them their signal.

This was it.

* * *

A/N; Oh, look, no more for now. Thanks to you who have rewieved up to now! 


	7. Second Chance

Disclaimer: I don't own jack of this, except the idea and the original characters that pop up.

* * *

If Jerin Millet was nervous, he didn't show it. Instead he turned partly away from staring at the dark lord's broad back to look over the shoulder of the ensign, reading what the screen flashed at him, and nodded, patting the man's shoulder. Walking with slow, but firm steps, he stopped behind and slightly to the side of Vader, not turning to look at the Sith, who seemed unnaturally calm. 

Millet knew that kind of behavior. He was more observant than most gave him credit for, which made him dangerous, so he'd always seen to it to keep his ambitions modest, but not too modest, lest someone take notice and get suspicious. But back to the Emperor's right hand man. He may be unreadable due to the helmet and a smooth rock face kind of facade, but that didn't matter. Millet knew the man was brimming over with impatience, even if Vader himself didn't know it... maybe didn't let himself know it. There was more buried here than was visible even to Millet, and he caught himself hoping they'd find whoever it was Vader was hunting. For some unfathomable reason, it seemed to do the man some good. He seemed to... loosen up, was the closest Millet could come to call it. There was definitely _something_ below the surface, and it was due to whatever they were hunting.

"Milord? We're closing in on Ord Ibanna. We'll arrive within the hour." Vader didn't answer him, but the helmet tilted almost imperceptibly, and Millet relaxed just a notch, his bland, eternally tired-looking face keeping it's stern, watchful expression, not revealing anything. Not that Vader was fooled. And they both knew that.

* * *

Clearing the turn-and-drop with a stomach-curling hairsbreadth, Luke was vaguely aware that something like that would normally have made him feel like his heart was in his mouth. 

But there was no _time_ for that.

No time for fear, just reacting, _doing_. One slip and he'd be sailing-falling serenely, and at a break-neck speed, down into the gasses that Ord Ibanna consisted of, and that the "race-track", simple pipes, gangways and floating platforms, where floating above. And that was not a possibility he looked forward to.

Of course, Luke was also doing his best at _avoiding_ that possibility, pressing his new-found skill and all his luck and gut-feeling to the limit. Another drop, and suddenly one of the other podracers was up close, trying to push him off the skyway, but Luke would have none of it, and pushed the accelerator briefly to brush past the larger 'racer with a screech of metal. The pilot lost control of his 'racer, since he was still pushing at something that wasn't there any more, and continued off the skyway in a fashion much like the pilot had wanted Luke to do.

Blue eyes didn't even have the time to flicker back, since he had to keep his concentration on the race, and the other (still alive, his mind whispered) podracers. Luke could have _sworn_ he'd heard the pilot cry out as he hurtled towards his death, but that wasn't possible. He didn't have that good hearing. Muttering a soft curse to himself, Luke shook his head, deftly avoiding another podracer, and passed the starting line.

One lap left, and for some reason this time the racetrack seemed to stretch out into infinity, every turn and drop more heart-stopping than the last, even if he knew where they were by now, even if he'd done this two times before. It was just as if the end moved further and further away, the closer he came. Of course, that was just his fear talking...

Eyes widening, Luke realized he'd let himself get distracted, and gotten off wrong at the drop. He was now tearing through the air at the wrong angle, and would miss the platform by a meter. Heart hammering in his ears, but not hearing the sound of his blood rushing, Luke gripped the stick with his left hand, keeping his right one its handle, and turned the control stick, turning the podracer half onto its own side with it, and then accelerating, turning as much as he could and hoping. it. would. be. enough. With a soft scrape he landed on the platform, feeling the heavier draft of air from the gap to his right. He'd righted his 'racer just before he landed, with nothing more than maybe a hand span's leave between him and the platforms edge.

That had been close.

The pipeline filled his whole vision, the speeds they were going at seemingly not to matter at all as he could maneuver and move with ease, even at what should have been too narrow, and too fast to react at turns and drops. That last narrow escape had hammered home how important it was he concentrate on what he was doing, to not give in to the fear thrumming though his body for him to survive this.

He may feel his fear burn in his veins, skittering along his nerves, but he couldn't acknowledge it, since that would be his doom. Literally. The finish was coming up, and for the first time Luke could feel the stirrings of hope. That he may actually survive this, that maybe he'd get home to Aunt Beru and Uncle Owen, and Uncle Owen would scold him for going away without permission... he hadn't really lost his focus, but one of the podracers in front of him suddenly braked, and he had to brake in turn not to crash into the other, and then it was simply too late.

The other podracer came up beside him and _pushed_, and since he'd already been jostled by the earlier brake, he was too close to the edge. The fall was instant, as did his heart. Except that he and the 'racer fell _downwards_, while it felt like his heart hurtled _upwards_, being left somewhere in the air above him.

Oh.

It wouldn't be alright anyway.

_Father!_

And then it all stopped.

* * *

The heavy stomping of many boots on metal may have been what made the spectators turn around in curiosity, but the squadron of stormtroopers were probably not what made them all quickly flee out of the way to let the imposing group pass. 

Darth Vader towered above the stormtroopers, his cloak swirling in the slight breeze that played along the floating platforms and skyways of Ord Ibanna. No one wanted to stand in the way of the determined stride of the Empire's second in command. The race had already begun, and for some reason, Vader felt as if a chance had slipped between his fingers before he even had the possibility to examine and maybe use it.

Shaking his head mentally, he gripped the railing and stretched out, easily finding the bright flame he'd been hunting these past two weeks. He'd felt it the moment they'd dropped out of hyperspace, but he hadn't tried to reach out yet, and he didn't establish contact just yet. Podracing was not easy, even with the Force, and he couldn't risk the child loosing concentration if he touched the child's mind at the wrong moment.

A whisper of a thought said that if he did, and the child lost control and crashed he wouldn't have to deal with the possibility of finding out if it indeed was his... if it was _Padmé's_ child or not. It couldn't be, he knew that, but he wouldn't have to torture himself with the possibility any more. But even so, he couldn't take the risk of startling the child and maybe send him to his death, because _what if_ it was Padmé's child? Then he would have killed it, and her, twice. That couldn't be allowed. He was standing so he had a clear view of the last stretch before the finishing/starting line, and so saw the smaller craft being tag-teamed by the two other leading podracers, and it's subsequent fall. Well, podracing was a hazardous sport, after all.

_Father!_ The cry echoed in his head with all the panicked strength of a thundering dewback and Vader almost staggered under it. Years of training and his own pride kept that from happening. He wasn't even aware he'd caught the falling 'racer with the Force and stopped its decent before he was fighting against gravity, who wanted to keep its prize.

That wasn't going to happen.

He'd lost his wife once, and the child with it, and now that he could do something about it, he wouldn't loose the child again. Realizing what he was thinking, the railing dented below his white-knuckled grip. If he would have dared to split his concentration, he would have strangled one of the stormtroopers standing nervously at attention around him. He knew he _could_ do it, but that would be totally unprovoked, and that was simply unnecessary.

While killing them just because he still had trouble keeping Anakin and _Darth Vader_ separate might have been satisfying, it didn't have any use, and wouldn't fill any practical need. He had _some_ restraint. Walking slowly down to the pits, since that were the closest place to put down the blue-and-silver podracer, Vader wondered what he'd see when the pilot jumped out.

The podracer settled with a thump and slight scrape of metal, the whine of the engines dying down to nothing. Crossing his arms, Vader stared impatiently at the silent 'racer and its helmeted pilot sitting still within. He could feel waves of relief and astonishment flowing from the child, almost shouting the feelings through the Force.

Then the boy finally jumped out, revealing himself to be wearing slightly too-large and dirty tatooinian clothing, and then the helmet came off, and time slowed to a crawl as the straps caught on something, refusing to let go for a moment. Then the helmet was thrown to the ground, and wild, sweaty dark-blond hair gleamed in the muted sunlight, so familiar it hurt, even darkened by sweat as it was. The goggles were pushed up high on the boy's forehead, blue eyes wide and almost glazed with giddy relief, and he was staring at himself from several decades back, with only slight differences.

The nose was slightly different... more like _hers_, and maybe something more, but otherwise... all him. How could he have missed it! Vader wasn't sure what it was he was supposed to have missed... Padmé not dying on Mustafar, but surviving to at least give birth to their child, Padmé dying some time after that, the child surviving and thriving somewhere in the galaxy... He couldn't have noticed, he knew, but somehow it felt as if he should have. He _was_ the strongest in the Force after all, so how could he have missed his own son, even hidden away on Tatooine?

"I thought I was dead!" The bright, out-of-breath exclamation rudely brought Vader back to the here and now, discarding the old thought of "I should be all-powerful" for now. How had he forgotten it in the first place?

* * *

The words tumbled out, unstoppable like a sandstorm, but as the dark helmet looked down on him, Luke wondered of it had been so smart to just blurt them out. The gaze he could feel behind that inscrutable mask was intense, and slightly scary. Then he frowned, and straightened. He wasn't going to show that he was afraid! For some reason, it felt like this amused the dark giant. But how could he know what Luke was _feeling_? And _how_ had the man stopped his fall and floated him over here? He was fairly _burning_ with questions, but didn't dare ask them. Not yet. 

"Who are you?" Came out anyway, slipping past his initial hesitation, gaining strength at the end. Luke thought he did have the right to ask _that_ at the least. Of course, there was the nagging feeling he should _know_ who this man was... both from his gut-feeling and from something more mundane, a thought back in his mind squalling for attention. The dark man was silent for a few moments, his cool cloak lapping softly at his heels in the wind, swirling like sand in the wind.

"Darth Vader." Came after a while, the demanding voice deep and resonating, but also somehow slightly softer behind the vocoder. How Luke could tell, or if it had even been there for real, and not something he'd imagined, he wasn't sure.

Then it slammed into his brain.

The Sith Lord, the Emperor's right hand man had saved him!

Was on this planet for... him? And then there was that dark and cold/warm thing in the back of his mind, alive and _close_. So close in fact... father? That was just a normal thought however, but Luke shifted his weight nervously and stared up at Vader. Was it possible? But how...? Luke may be naive, but that didn't mean he didn't have some self-perseverance, and it kicked in now.

"What are you doing here... sir?" Suspicion made his voice sharp, but he managed to tack on the sir without anything more than a slight pause. He didn't want to seem impolite... Vader'd probably not like that. Vader's helmet tipped slightly to the side, and one foot slid further away to rest more of the weight there, and Luke got the distinct feeling the Sith lord wasn't happy.

"I am not here to answer your questions, child. Come now." There was a definite warning in that voice, but Luke ignored it, crossing his own arms.

"To home? Aunt Beru and Uncle Owen must be worried by now..." He trailed off softly, but his blue eyes were narrowed.

"No. Not "home". And it was not a request, young one. How else would you get off the planet?" Luke was about to sharply retort that he indeed had someone that would take him home, and that the Sith lord had been kind but could now frankly toddle off if he wouldn't take Luke back to Tatooine. Even if something in Luke shied from the thought of separating from this dark, imposing giant. But Vader had apparently grown tired of waiting for Luke, and took one large step forward, grabbing his upper arm.

"Did you hear "please" somewhere in there, child? I am not a patient man." Vader rumbled, his amplified voice making the words even sharper. Luke flinched, then jerked angrily in the Sith lord's grip.

"Let go! I can get home on my own! Thanks for saving me, but you don't have any right to tell me where to go!"

The grip on his arm suddenly tightened to the point of pain, and he was shaken, not roughly, but his teeth did rattle uncomfortably.

"Again, there was no option in there for you, young one. And don't you want to know how you can know things before others... reacting quicker than should be possible..?" Freezing, Luke looked up into the helmet which was tilted just slightly down in his direction.

The last had been said softly, surprisingly so with a thought to that the vocoder didn't seem to support much in the way of vocal diversity, and Luke nodded slowly. He _was_ curious, and if Vader had stopped his fall and floated him back to the pits, then he should be able to tell him, right?

"Okay." Luke wasn't sure what he'd just agreed to, or what was going to happen now, but the probability of him getting home in the near future suddenly seemed astronomical. In the background, in the shadow of the grandstands, several armed-to-the-teeth bodyguards herded a Rodian after a purple-skinned Twi'lek woman.


	8. Ends Connecting

Disclaimer: Don't own Star Wars, just this little idea.

* * *

The shout died away, echoing in her brain and Leia looked up sharply to look around the classroom, then down. No one had been shouting... _/At least not out loud./_ She thought, and wondered. This time she'd been awake, and while the call had been weaker, it had at the same time seemed stronger. 

As if it had subconsciously been meant for her too, and not just whoever it was the caller had wanted. She wasn't sure what was going on, or how she could hear these calls, but she couldn't deny to being curious... and besides, the caller always seemed to be in trouble when he or she reached out. Closing her eyes and letting the teacher's voice drop into the background, she grasped the flickering light that was as hard to hold as moonlight or water.

Grasped it and stretched out clumsily.

_Who are you..?_

_

* * *

_

Just looking at the child made it apparent who his parents were, or at least who one parent was, but Vader wouldn't let himself hope... wouldn't let himself be led on by a possible imposter no matter how much resemblance there was. The boy was sitting in the seat in front of him, sulking while trying to look like he wasn't freezing.

"What is your name?" Vader's deep voice rolled between the two occupants of the compartment, the stormtroopers having been left outside. It wasn't as if one child could pose any threat to the dark lord of the Sith. Not any _physical_ threat, at any rate. He had to admit to a flowering hope, weak and hesitant, but there. If this child really was hers... that meant... what did it mean? Shaking his head mentally, he resolved to think on that later. He wasn't sure this was his and Padmé's son. Not until he'd gotten proof in the form of blood, even if the resemblance between Anakin Skywalker and this child was almost striking.

"Luke Skywalker." There was something almost defiant in the way the boy said it, and Vader smiled in the privacy of his mind. But that was the only thing vaguely amusing with this. Here was yet another proof, and while his heart cried out for it to be true (hadn't his heart been gutted when Padmé turned against him, and then torched and burned to ashes by Obi-Wan?), his mind still shied away from the possibility. If only because hurt lay that way. Hurt, and a stirring of pasts and memories he had wanted to forget.

Luke was upset at himself at agreeing so easily, but done was done. And besides, he had a feeling Vader wouldn't have accepted anything other than a "yes" of some sort. Or, if that hadn't been forthcoming, he would have just taken him and walked away anyway. He really had a way of getting himself into trouble, didn't he?

A weak, silent flutter in the back of his mind almost made him jerk, but since Vader was right across from him, he didn't want to show that anything might be different. It was light and sweet, and strong as steel even if it had been weak. It was a question of some sort, directed at him, Luke was sure. But anything else had been lost on the way, and it was way too weak for Luke to be able to hold onto it. It wasn't like that _other_ thing in his mind which even now was pulsing in a far-away corner, but closer than it had ever been before. Looking up quickly at Vader, because maybe it had been him anyway, Luke found the dark lord staring out the view port.

Quickly looking away, Luke frowned. So who had it been? It had been nice, whoever it was. Nice and somehow comfortable, familiar. Just like that other thing. It was a little confusing to call them "things" but since Luke had no idea what they were, he had no other choice. Of course, he could always ask Vader... but maybe not. Not yet at any rate. Besides, the stronger _thing_ was important.

Because maybe...

Maybe it meant his father wasn't dead.

"How did you end up on this planet, child?"

Luke felt vague irritation at not being called his name. What was it with all these grown-ups insisting on using a lot of other things, _but_ his name? But Vader was waiting for an answer, and while the man hadn't done anything but look at him (Luke assumed anyway, since the helmet was turned in his direction), he could feel Vader wasn't going to wait infinitely on his answer.

"Um... I was kidnapped by someone who wanted to me to race and win it." Luke muttered. It sounded really stupid like that, but for some reason Vader seemed angry. How Luke could tell he wasn't really sure, but why was he _angry_? It wasn't as if _Luke_ had done anything wrong! Vader was silent for a few moments, and when he talked again, he seemed to have calmed down, or at least Luke didn't notice anything.

"And how did you get the podracer? They are not exactly common." Vader pointed out and Luke squirmed in his seat. There was nothing embarrassing in this part of the story, but if Luke's suspicions were correct, then Vader wasn't just the dark lord of the Sith... he would be something much more important... at least to Luke. But however it was with that, how had Vader found him? Biting his lower lip in thought, Luke figured he'd ask that as soon as he could find the opportunity to.

"Found it in a junkyard in Anchorhead. The alien who'd taken over the junkyard owned it.

He said I could get it if I repaired it and raced him in Beggar's Canyon and won, of course." Luke shrugged, looking at Vader from the corner of one eye. There was nothing, and Luke wasn't sure if that should be interpreted as good or bad. Deciding to use this as an opportunity to ask, Luke turned to face Vader and squared his shoulders.

"How did you find me?"

Luke's voice cut through the haze of anger (how dare that man have his son living on _Tatooine_ of all places?), astonishment over the fact that his old podracer had found its way back to Tatooine and the Skywalkers again, and rage, Luke could have been hurt. Shaking his head mentally Vader focused back on the small, suspicious and inquisitive face.

"I heard you call."

Something like hesitant and wary hope flashed over the young face before the more realistic feeling of suspicion snapped in.

"I didn't call for _you_!" Luke said, voice edgy, hope somehow yet flickering in clear, blue eyes. Just as it did inside Vader, since the possibilities of this being his child... The possibilities were glorious, and in secret, somewhere deep, deep down there was that old want of family. A want that was firmly ignored, since he had something much more fulfilling now, that being the dark side of the Force.

"But I heard." Vader calmly pointed out, and silence stretched between them, since both were aware of _whom_ Luke had been calling for. But the child was uncertain, since apparently someone could have heard it, and Vader... well, there was no point in needlessly expecting something that should be impossible, since she _had_ died, however much he seemed to be looking into a mirror to his youth.

_/And in more ways than one, it seems./_ Vader thought as his mind flashed back to the podracer gleaming in the muted sunlight of Ord Ibanna when it had been safely put back on the ground. A podracer that was now being shipped back to the Gauntlet, and _why_ had he done that? He should have had it scrapped the moment he had turned his back on it. But Luke had so obviously put so much love and effort into repairing the 'racer, and seeing it, he simply hadn't been able to just leave it there.

It had seemed like a waste somehow.

* * *

The ship was giant, an echoing construction of durasteel and light; at least for Luke it seemed gigantic. He'd been kidnapped, forced to race, almost died, and now he had to walk along these seemingly endless corridors! But he didn't say anything, silently following in the dark lord's wake. When they finally stopped in front of a door, Luke could have cried. But of course he wasn't allowed to rest just yet. It was the infirmary, and Luke couldn't help the groan that slipped out. Couldn't this have waited until tomorrow? Or at least until he'd gotten a few hours of sleep or something? 

"Look him over," Vader said then whirled around, the door sliding shut with a soft hiss. Staring, slightly annoyed at the now-closed door, Luke was beginning to think he wasn't wanted, because if that was the case, Vader could just have left him on the planet.

"Hmm... hop on up then..." The doctor trailed off, and Luke grinned shortly.

"I'm Luke Skywalker." It came out slightly sharp, but the doctor didn't seem to mind, just nodded at the table again. Luke grimaced but did as asked, being silent through the poking and prodding. Just as the doctor was finished, Vader came in again, stopping by the door like an ominous shadow.

"Take a blood sample, and compare compatibility with this." Vader gave the doctor some instrument or other, and Luke sat still as he got pricked. He was way too tired to care about some little pinprick. The minutes ticked by silently, Luke staring at Vader under his lashes, and Vader looking and thinking on who knew what.

"My… My Lord..." the doctor seemed quite startled at the result for some reason, his middle-aged face wrinkling in confusion.

"What does it say?" Vader apparently wasn't about to wait until the doctor had collected himself, because that wasn't so much a question, as a demand. Luke found himself leaning forward eagerly, because he could _guess_ what this last check had been about. Finally (even if it had only been a few seconds) the doctor turned around with a slight grin.

"Well... I guess the only appropriate thing to say... Congratulations. It's a boy."

Silence reigned supreme as father and son turned to stare at each other, no one saying anything. Luke _wanted_ to jump up and run over to hug Va... his _father_, but he realized that probably _not_ would be taken very well. So he sat still, silent, but the truth burned between them, inside them, with the intensity of Tattooine's twin suns, and something just... _clicked_ into place.

* * *

Ugh. This is such a short chapter... if it even can be allowed to call itself that, but this was all I wanted to say in this one, so it goes.  
But anyway. Thanks to all of you who reviewed, and especially Ar-Zimraphel, because you gave me the extra needed to get the insipration to finish this chapter.  
Hopefully the rest won't be so recalcitrant.  



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